Empty Casket
by YelloSubmarine93
Summary: Amber Wilson and her family had been through enough, goddamn it, and the move and being closer to longtime friends the Whittemores should have been good for them. Beacon Hills was supposed to bring a little peace and happiness back into their lives. Apparently, the town and it's 'occupants' had decided otherwise. Starts with S1, but with a family of OCs.
1. Southern Hospitality?

**A/N: Hello there, fellow fanfictioners!**

**I know, I know. I'm a terrible person, focusing on a completely new story rather than the two Stiles/OC fics I already have going on. ****_However_****. Whenever I'm reading a fix where someone is close to Lydia and therefore close to Jackson, I get all the best friend!Jackson feels, so I needed to do a fix like that. And this just kind of happened. I'm sorry, okay?! My hand slipped and this just came out. Totally ****_not_**** my fault.**

**I have no idea where this is going to go, I don't know any pairings or whatever, but I'm starting from Season 1 and going with it. Come the end of Season 2, however, I'll be changing it up a bit. Too many deaths and disappearances for my liking, and for this story, so hurrah for fanfiction and being able to manipulate the canon story line for my liking!**

**Also, this is my first ever chapter coming from my new iMac! I'm still getting used to it, as I've never had one before, so bare with me, because the typing is weird and I haven't proofread this yet.**

**Anyway. Links to my Tumblr and Polyvore for this fic will be on my profile as usual. And I have a face claim from the beginning, for once; Olivia Cooke. I decided to stick with my apparent theme of OC's with names beginning with 'A'.**

**I don't own Teen Wolf. Shock Horror.**

* * *

The wolf moved closer.

Or, at least, the man-sized mass of black fur and shadow that Kendra knew to be one of the nightmarish wolves that had been haunting her, day and night, in both her life and dreams, moved closer.

If someone has told her just a week ago that she would be paralysingly terrified of a small pack of creatures somewhat resembling oversized wolves, who had been stalking her all week, while in the metal confines of her car, she probably would have told them to stop taking whatever drugs they were on, and to think about taking up creative writing.

But now, sat in the driving seat and on the verge of a panic attack, Kendra wasn't so sceptical.

She'd barely noticed them before, had barely spared the wolves roaming the side of the country road she sped down on her drive home a second glance. But since the early hours of Thursday morning, when she'd been woken up by a loud howling coming from inside her own head, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about them. How she passed them on her drive into the studio in town she worked in, and then again on her drive home. How, if she looked out through the massive windows of the studio at almost anytime of day, she would see at least two of them, lazing in the shade cast down by the trees, or winding through the large trunks. How she would catch sight of them running alongside the road, hidden behind the trees as she took her daughter to the mall. How, even if it was her bathroom mirror she was looking in, she would find herself staring into the bright, blood-red eyes over her shoulder whenever she glanced at her own reflection. How the howling would keep her up at night.

At first, she thought she was being paranoid. Then, that maybe she was losing it; that she should head to a doctor, get some help.

After she turned the corner on her deserted drive home only to see _them _spread out over the entire road, however, she knew neither was the case. She wasn't hallucinating, and those wolves were definitely following her.

What she didn't understand was why. Why _her_? What was it about her that was so appealing to that particular pack of wolves? Did she smell nice to them, or was it on a completely different level all together? She just didn't get it, and it wasn't like she was going to get an answer from them anytime soon.

Another howl broke through the silence, this one definitely from the wolves just outside her car, and Kendra shook her head.

"I'm not just going to sit here like a fish in a barrel." The hulking black mass to her right snuffled and moved closer to her door. "I'm going to start up this car, and y'all are either going to move or one of y'all are going to get hit. I ain't going to stop, and ain't going to help you, so make up your mind." She turned the key in the ignition, relieved that she and Nick had agreed on new family-friendly cars over beautiful old ones when she heard the engine spring to life without a fuss.

The feeling didn't last long.

Kendra heard a startling pop from her right, followed by a long, drawn-out hiss that sounded a lot like air being released from a tyre. _A lot_. She heard it again, over her right shoulder, before a loud bang from in front of her had her head whipping back around to face the bonnet.

Or, more accurately, to face the large, snarling, literally-foaming-at-the-mouth wolf on her bonnet.

She'd never been more terrified; not when she found out her brother was enlisting when she was fifteen, not when she fell of a horse for the first time, not when she found out she was pregnant with her daughter and her mom made her watch all of those birthing videos. This was a whole other world of fear, and Kendra could hear her heart beating frantically in her ears, could almost see it through her chest. And by the way the wolf in front of her cocked it's head, she swore it could hear it too.

She heard another howl from behind the car, saw a flash of red in the rearview mirror, before they all began to growl, inching slowly towards her. Kendra whimpered, reaches blindly beside her for her purse, her phone, while trying to keep an eye on the approaching threat. A bang above her tells her one of them is on the roof of her car, and she can hear it scratching; but not like it was trying to claw its way through. It was like a long, drawn-out drag of one claw along the metal - like it was taking its time, trying to wring as much of the fear out of her as it could with just that one claw. She finally finds her phone, seeing through the tears that, of course, there's no service. She can't even call Nick, her children, can't tell them she loves them, hear their voices, just one more time.

She was going to die alone. Crying, terrified, and alone.

The sound of shattering glass that followed the thought was drowned out by Kendra's screaming.

* * *

I woke up to screeching tyres from the road at the end of our drive.

I sat up at my desk where I had fallen asleep, blinking away the tears that usually formed after the dream I had, _once again_, and glanced at the clock on my laptop, which told me it was gone one in the morning. School started back after the winter break in a couple of hours, and if Dad found out I'd fallen asleep at my desk watching _Breaking Bad_ again, he was going to ban me from any and all television, so I quickly closed my laptop and made my way to the dressing table to take my jewellery off when something outside caught my eye.

We lived in the Beacon Hills Preserve, our long driveway linking the house to one of the roads on the edge of the woods, and the entire plot was covered in trees. During winter, however, with the trees barer than in the midst of summer, I could usually see the road, and everything in between the road and the house, from my window. Usually there's not much to see, just leaves, animals and the occasional jogger, but one in the morning wasn't the usual time for a shaggy-haired, teenage boys to go out for a run, especially not when wearing jeans. So I opened my window, hissed "McCall!" in a voice barely above a whisper, and then begun chastising myself. My dad was _so _going to kill me.

Despite the quiet call, the boy in question seemed to hear his voice, and looked around, finally landing on me when I waved my arm around a little, using my other arm to prop myself up against the roof under the window, leaning forward in a vain attempt to get closer, so I didn't have to yell. His eyebrows flew up when he saw me, and he begins looking around, as if trying to find whoever I was talking to.

"Is there another McCall wandering around the woods outside my house, or are y'all the only one I should be worried about?"

"Well, if there is another one, it's my mom, which means she knows I'm out here. And if that's the case, she's gonna be _pissed_." I smiled, hiding it behind an eye roll and an exasperated sigh.

"What are you _doing _out here, McCall? It's the middle of the night."

"I was out here with Stiles-"

"Oh, _of course_, you were. When are you not with Stilinski?" McCall either didn't hear me or just decided to ignore me.

"And we got separated, and when I tried to find the road, I almost got run down by a car, so now I'm thinking I'll take my chances with the wolf." My blood ran cold at that.

"The _what_?"

"The wolf. I got bit by something, and I heard howli-"

"There are no wolves in California, McCall." It was one of the reasons the place was so appealing.

"But I saw one!"

"No, you didn't. You probably saw a coyote or something. I swear, I keep seeing the same one every time I run passed this particular point in the preserve, and it-"

"Why're you talking to me?" I stopped, frowning as I looked down to the boy, his head cocked as he frowned back in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"You've lived here for maybe a year, year and a half? And you've never spoken to me. Not even to aid Jackson's attempts in making my life miserable. So why bother talking to me now?"

I paused, blowing out a breath as I considered my answer. "Would you rather I go all stereotypically Southern on your ass and yell at you to 'get off my land' while waving a shotgun in your face?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head, still frowning. "No."

"Well then, stop complaining. Give me two seconds, I'll be right down." I pulled my window down to cut off McCall's questions, wrote a note to Dad in case he woke up and realised I was gone - as much as I would like to avoid his wrath after he found out I snuck out in the middle of the night, I'd much rather that than face his terrified, worried face once I got home - and grabbed a jacket to go over my shorts and Jackson's old Beacon Hills Lacrosse tee as I slid my shoes on, and crept out onto the hallway, making sure to close my door behind me. Luckily, I didn't have to pass Dad's door and my door was right next to the stairs, so I avoided the creaking ones as I stepped down them, grabbing my keys from the bowl on the table in the middle of the foyer before slowly opening the front door, making as little noise as possible, and shutting it tight and locking it. I turned around and skipped down the front steps, waving at McCall to follow me around the house to my Mini Cooper, parked in front of the garage.

"You… you're gonna give me a ride home?"

I scoffed. "No, I'm gonna let you walk home alone, through the preserve, in the middle of the night with an animal bite in your side while my car is _right there_. I'm gonna get you to the hospital, get your mom to have a look at you." I pressed the button on the car key, the headlights flashing as the doors unlocked. The windows in Dad's room faced the back yard, rather than the side of the house, so he was unlikely to see it, or notice it was my car that woke him up, if it came to that, before he fell back asleep again.

"How'd you know my mom's a nurse?"

"I know everything, McCall. Just shut up and get in."

"Are you sure?"

"Would I be offering if I wasn't?"

McCall grumbled quietly in response, probably something I wouldn't want to hear, before he slid into the passenger seat. I checked the house once more before I slid into the driver's seat, and I spared a quick glance in my passenger's direction before starting up the car, wincing slightly at the louder-than-expected noise.

"Are you gonna get in trouble with your dad for this?" McCall asked, sitting up straight as though wanting to avoid leaning his dirty and bloodied jacket against my squeaky-clean seats.

"Only if he finds out. I'm sure I can trust you not to say a word to him?"

"Yeah, of course. Unless he threatens to stop me from getting into college if he finds out I'm hiding something."

I couldn't hide the small smile at that. "Pretty sure he doesn't have that kind of power at the college. And unless you decide to study Mathematics there, he won't be around you enough to make your college life a living hell."

"That's good news, I guess." The car fell silent for a few minutes, the only noises the mutes sounds of the car on the road. "Thank you. For this. You didn't have to."

"Don't worry about it. Knowing I left y'all to walk home alone in the cold while wounded would've kept me up at night, and I need my beauty sleep to keep looking this pretty."

He laughed quietly and turned his upper body to look at me. "You really don't seem like a bitch."

"Um… Thanks, I guess?"

"No, I didn't… I meant… Uh, I don't know. You've just… You always seem so…"

"Snobby? Full of myself? So far up my own ass that I can't see daylight?"

"I was going to say 'bitchy'. I wouldn't say you're any of _those _things."

"Oh, but Stilinski would." McCall opened his mouth to argue against that, but I cut him off. "I've heard it all with my own ears, McCall. I'm not hard of hearing, and he's not exactly quiet about his feelings."

"He just doesn't know you."

"Not knowing someone doesn't give you free reign to make assumptions about them."

"Well if they're not the kind of assumptions you want people to make about you, why do you act the way you do?"

"I don't like people. I don't like talking to them, or spending time with them, or making friends. And if people don't like me, then they don't try any of those things with me, and everyone's happy."

"So you're happy, knowing what everyone thinks about you? Thinks that you're a total bitch?"

"My friends and family think otherwise. That's all that matters to me."

"I think I'm starting to think otherwise." I turned to McCall, frowning at me from his seat, before he smiled the little puppy dog smile he was _almost_ famous for. "You can just drop me off at home."

"What?"

"I don't think I need to go to the hospital. I feel fine, and it doesn't seem deep."

"Dude, you could have rabies or something!"

"Did you just call me dude?" I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

"Get over it. I'm taking you to the hospital."

"I'm fine, really. I'll clean it up when I get home and keep an eye on it."

"It could be infected, McCall."

"I'm a nurse's son. If I think it's infected, then I'll get it checked out. But until then, I can handle it."

"McCall…"

"Really, I think it's fine. We're nearly there anyway, and I'd really rather just go home and try to get what's left of a good night's sleep before school." He suddenly brightened. Visibly. "I'm gonna try out for lacrosse tomorrow."

I frowned. "I thought you were already on the team."

"I am, but I'm trying out for first line." His smile was too big; I _really_ didn't want to bring his mood down."

"Well… Good for you. I hope you get it." McCall looked at me suspiciously - or as suspiciously as he could whilst still grinning like that.

"Really?"

"Yeah. It'll be good for Jackson to get some new competition. He needs someone to keep him on his feet."

He snorted. "I don't think I'll be giving Jackson any competition any time soon, but thanks anyway."

"Hey, don't sell yourself short. Half of the battle is attitude. You go in there, telling yourself you've got this and you're gonna be great, and your chances of doing just that are already _that_ much higher." I looked over to see him smiling, looking at the road through the windshield. He nodded.

"Take a right up here." He pointed, gesturing the way, before returning his hands to his lap. "You know, you're really nice for someone who hates people." I huffed out a small, insincere laugh, nodding. I thought of my mom, like I always do when people bring up my attitude towards people. It's not like it was her fault, what happened, but that attitude was still due to her. Due to losing her. "This is it, on the right." I nodded, shaking myself out of that train of thought and pulling over in front of the McCall residence. I cut the engine and turned to McCall.

"If I don't see that thing cleaned and dressed first thing tomorrow morning, I'm going to drag you to the hospital with my own two hands." I held up said hands to make a point, raising my eyebrows and silently daring him to doubt me. Instead, he just smiled. "I mean it McCall."

"Scott," he said, rushed and loudly, like he hadn't meant for it to come out. I raised an eyebrow and he scrunched up his face, confirming that suspicion. "Sorry, I… my name's Scott."

I smiled a little; I couldn't help it. "I know what your name is."

"It's just, you sound so much like Jackson when you call me McCall, and, before, it was fine. I get that you guys are friends, and hanging out with him, you would've heard him refer to me as McCall whenever he decided to honour me with his attention-" I snorted at that, and he smiled in return, still talking, "- and before tonight, I always thought you were the same kind of person, you know? And calling me McCall was just a 'that sort of person' thing to do, but you're not… you're not that sort of person. Not from what I can tell, anyway. So, I thought… I don't want to associate you with the kind of person who calls me McCall just because it's easier than using my first name and imagining me as an actual person, instead of something that's blocking your locker."

I sat in stunned silence for a few moments, unsure of how to respond. "People think you're stupid." _Goddamn it._ McCall's… Scott's face fell, and I don't think I'd ever felt so guilty in my life. "That's not what I meant. At all. It's not that people think you're stupid, it's more that they… underestimate you, I guess. And they don't think you're capable and can figure stuff out, because you're not the best in your class or captain of the lacrosse team, or whatever. And I hate to admit it, but I always thought the same thing. And I know I'm a terrible person for it, I'll be the first to hold my hands up and admit that it's a terrible thing to do, to assume you know someone. I hate it when people do it to me."

Scott cut me off before I could continue, not looking at me with his face a mix of anger, pain and a little bit of humiliation."Do you have a point here, or did you just want to let me know that everything thinks I'm stupid."

"My point is that they're wrong. That I was wrong." Scott still refused to look at me, instead gazing out of the window in front of him, but I could see the hard set of his face relax a little. "High school is a shit time for anyone-" Scott's snort interrupted me, but I just rolled my eyes and continued, "- more so for some than others, I'll admit, but it's still shit. And people who have everything going for them now probably won't once we graduate, and vice versa. You figured out high school, and it's not even like you tried."

"And how does this make your point, exactly?"

"Because not everyone is book smart, Scott." He seemed to relax a little more when I said his name, the first time I'd used it out loud since I saw him in my yard. "Lord knows Jackson isn't, but he's still doing pretty great for himself." Scott frowned, but I barrelled on. "He knows his strengths, and he plays to them. He's a symbol, a leader; people look to him when they want to see the all-American 'popular' jock, and he knows that. People don't look down on him because he's not smart, they look up to him because he _demands_ it, and no one even really notices that. You just need to find your strengths; find what you're unquestionably good at, something nobody can take away from you. And you stick to it."

Scott frowned, nodding slowly. "What do_ you _think I'm good at?"

I shrugged. "I don't know you, not really. So that's a question you'll have to find the answer to yourself. Or at least with people who _do _know you. But you seem like a nice guy, Scott. And you _get _people, in ways a lot of people don't. In ways some people probably don't even get themselves. Maybe that's somewhere to start."

Scott nodded again, with less of a frown this time. Then it came back as he looked at me. "You thought I was stupid?"

I groaned miserably, shaking my head at myself before covering my face with my hands. I heard him breathing heavily, and panicked for a second, thinking his bite had gotten infected and he was going into shock or something. That was until I saw him laughing, with this proud look on his face. I shoved at his shoulder, and he laughed harder. "Dick." I laughed along quietly for a second, before shaking my head again. "Get lost. Go clean that bite of yours before it gets nasty and gross in my car."

Scott opened the car door, stepping out before bending at the waist to stick his head back in. "Hey, can you do me a favour and keep an eye out around your house for my inhaler? I dropped it somewhere around the… you know what, never mind. I'll just get another one."

"I don't mind, Scott. Those things are kind of expensive."

"Yeah, no, it's fine, don't worry about it. Maybe try to avoid going too far into the woods, what with… the, uh, coyote, or whatever."

"Are you okay?"

"Mm hmm." Scott nodded, a little too vigorously to be considered okay. "Just, don't bother looking for my inhaler. I'll try and find it tomorrow or something."

"If you're sure…"

"I am! Yeah, just… Okay. Thanks again, Amber. I really appreciate it. Goodnight." Scott slammed the door shut before I could return the sentiment and jogged up the stairs to his front door, dragging his phone and keys out of his jeans pockets as he went.

* * *

"Amber, for the last time, we ain't getting a cat!"

"Oh, c'mon. Please. Daddy, please." I pouted, bringing out the full-on sad puppy dog face that I had perfected mere years into my existence. I was four when I realised my dad broke under the pressure of it _nearly every time_, and I've yet to forget it.

There was one problem with the face, however. You needed to be looking at it to get the full effect. And Dad was determinedly not.

"I ain't looking. I know exactly what you're doing right now, and I ain't fallen' for it. Go get ready for school."

"Can't I get one for my birthday?"

"You're birthday was _last week_, and I got you a goddamn _car_. No cat."

"But Daddy…"

"Go now, or I'll but you a pet lizard instead."

"Ew, no thank you. Lizards are the devil. Literally, according to the bible."

"That was a snake, dumbass." I rolled my eyes and scoffed at my brother. I heard Dad sigh over his cooking bacon.

"Same difference. They're both creepy, scaly reptiles that have no business being household pets."

"Dad, can we get a lizard. Or a snake." Josh turned to look at me, an evil grin on his face. "I ain't picky."

"Urgh, you're such a dork." I threw one last glare at Josh as I got up from my seat, washing my dish and mug before standing on my tiptoes to place a kiss on Dad's cheek. "I'm going to shower."

"Yeah, you need one. I can smell you from here," Josh called across the kitchen.

"I suppose we've all just gotten used to your smell. You might want to clean yourself up, though, because I ain't sure the same can be said for that girl. What was her name…" I saw Josh's eyebrows rise up his forehead, a murderous look crossing his face as I pretended to think. "Melanie? Yeah, I think that was it. Melanie, in your French class."

I swear, I could almost see smoke coming out of Josh's ears as Dad looked between the two of us. "Who's Melanie?" Dad asked.

"Oh, no one. Just this girl who Josh as got the biggest ever crush on." I grinned.

"How do you know about that." Josh's face barely moved as he spoke, and the lack of inflection in his voice made the question sound like more of a statement.

"I know everything, Joshua. Even _you_ should know this by now."

"Amber, stop teasing your brother. I remember your first serious crush; would you like us to tease you about that?"

I sighed. "That was a long time ago, Dad."

"it was three years ago. On your teacher." I scrunched my face up in embarrassment as Josh started laughing. Hard. He stopped laughing when I threw a wooden spoon in his direction and he fell out of his chair in surprise. Dad dropped his chin to his chest, sighing in defeat. "Could you just…"

I giggled. "School. Clothes. Got it. On it."

I turned and skipped towards the stairs as I heard Josh groaning from the breakfast table, decidedly not stopping to look at the photos of Mom on the wall as I passed, and quickly made my way to the linen closet just outside my bedroom door to grab a towel and headed for the shower. About ten minutes later I heard Josh giggling to himself as he passed the bathroom. I don't know why he was passing the bathroom, though, he didn't need to to get to his room. There's only Dad's office and bedroom on the other side of the bathroom, and I didn't understand why he would need to be in either of those.

I didn't understand until the hot water shut off abruptly and was replaced by the icy droplets hitting my skin. I screeched, quickly shitting of the shower and wrenching the curtain back, wrapping myself up in the towel too small to surround my body with. I left the bathroom quickly, turning to the right to my bedroom, but I stopped when I heard sniggering behind me. Josh was leaning against the doorway of Dad's bedroom, beyond which his en-suite lay. He had probably decided to flush the toilet, knowing the water system in this old house was rather temperamental. I shook my head at him, glaring, though I knew the look wasn't quite as effective when I felt a water droplet converge at the tip of my nose. Josh pulled his lips in between his teeth to keep from laughing.

"You'll pay for this. Mark my words. You'll pay." Josh choked down another laugh, and nodded solemnly, sarcastically. I growled at him, before spinning on my heel and marching into my room, slamming the door behind me. I continued to shake my head and plan my brother's demise as I pulled on my underwear and tights, and then followed them with a blue dress with a black leather collar and capped sleeves.

I put on my natural looking makeup and curled my dark, auburn hair lightly, plaiting the front sections and pulling them back, clipping them into place. My phone started to ring as I was putting my rose gold watch on, and I picked it up, pressing the 'answer' button when I saw Lydia's picture, and caught it between my head and shoulder so I could continue putting my jewellery on.

"Hey, Lyds."

"Are my sources correct in telling me that you were out with a boy last night? _Late_, last night?"

"Good morning to you, too. And I don't know who these sources are or why you make it sound so _scandalous_, but yes, I was."

"…Well?"

"Well what?"

"Did you get any?"

"Oh my… no, Lydia, I did not 'get any'. McCall got stuck in the preserve last night, and I gave him a ride home." I waited a beat, but Lydia didn't respond. "Lyds?"

"Who the hell is McCall?" I heard muffled scuffling on the other end, followed by Lydia chastising someone under her breath. "No, give it ba - what are you - oh my god, would you just-"

"You were out with _McCall _last night?" I sighed.

"Yes, Jackson, I was out with McCall. I really don't understand why you don't like him."

"It's not that I don't _like_ him, Wilson, it's that people like us don't _associate_ with people like _him_." I gasped mockingly down the phone, a ring-wearing hand held to my chest.

"Oh, last name terms, you _are_ angry with me."

"Why were you out with McCall so late last night? Are you _trying_ to commit social suicide?"

"No, but he was stuck out in the wilderness, alone, in the cold and the dark. I couldn't just leave him, _Whittemore_."

"You definitely could have."

"I'm from Nshville, Jackson. Ever heard of a little thing called 'southern hospitality'?"

"Pretty sure that's for guests in your house."

"Or for peers stranded on my land. Danny would totally side with me on this one."

"Danny isn't here."

"And neither, technically, am I. So tell Lydia I said bye and I'll see her at school."

"Don't you dare hang up on me, Wilson."

"Bye, Sonny. Love you too."

"Don't _call_ me tha-" I hung up as Jackson started shouting down the phone, smiling to myself, and I sat down on my chaise to pull my booties on as someone knocked on my door.

"You can come in."

Dad peeked his head in through the small gap he made, smiling at me as I finished with my shoes and checked by purse for everything I needed. "Who's McCall?"

My mouth fell open. _How on earth did I forget that Dad could've heard every word I said down that phone?_ _How much did I say? Could I still get away with this? _"Um. No one, just a boy from school. He's on the lacrosse team, with Jackson."

"Oh, okay. Are y'all friends?"

"Not really. Just… classmates, I guess."

Dad hummed, nodding. "Not really friends… but worth getting grounded over, apparently."

_Damn it_. "Oh, come on Dad, you can't be serious."

"Can't I?"

"I was helping out a fellow student. Would you rather me have left him out in the cold to walk home alone?"

"I would have rather you wake me up and let _me_ take him home."

"Dad, I ain't stupid enough to get in a car alone with a guy who might try something."

"I'm not suggesting you are. I know you know better than that, but it was the middle of the night, and I had _no idea_ you were gone. Would you have ever told me?" I ducked my head, guilt washing over me. "That's what I thought. _Anything_ could have happened, Amber, and we wouldn't have had a clue. We could've been woken up at three in the morning to be told you were in an accident, or… and we wouldn't have even known you were out in the first place."

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't think about that."

"I know you didn't. You wouldn't have done it if you did." I nodded, agreeing. Dad sighed. "Don't do it again. Next time you _will _be grounded. And it won't be the nice kind of grounded with the TV and your phone." I nodded again.

"I won't. I'm sorry. It won't happen again." Dad nodded back, and placed a hand on the back of my hair to place a kiss on my forehead.

"You bet it won't. Now get going, or you're going to be late." Dad leaned back and pounded his fist of Josh's door, next to mine. "C'mon, Josh, get your ass moving."The door swung open, and Josh came out, dragging his backpack across the floor behind him.

"How come when she sneaks out in the middle of the night with a boy, she gets let off, but whenever I do something wrong, I get grounded on the spot, without being allowed to defend myself?"

Dad dropped a hand onto Josh's shoulder "The last time you got grounded, it was because you set off a stink bomb in Coach Finstock's office."

"You can't prove that was me."

"You were hiding under the desk."

"I was just dropping off his Christmas present."

"Yeah, sure you were, kid."

* * *

"I'm just saying, generally, if a girl is playing with her hair and smiling directly at you when you're talking to her, there's a very good chance she likes you."

I pulled into the school parking lot and swung out of the car, Josh following close behind from the passenger side. I turned to him from over the roof of the car, to see his face scrunched up in thought.

"I don't know, Am. Maybe she just really likes playing with her hair."

"Are we talking about that Melanie girl?" Josh groaned as Lydia sidled up beside him, hooking her purse over her arm and laying it in the crook of her elbow. I nodded in answer. "How does she play with her hair?"

"I don't know," Josh mumbled.

"Well, is it like this…" Lydia flicked her hair over her shoulder with a haughty expression, "or more like this?" she asked, twirling her hair around her gloved index finger as she smiled sweetly.

"I don't know… the second one, I guess?"

"Are you telling me, or asking me?" Josh groaned and I smiled at his discomfort, until I saw something over his shoulder.

"Oh, Lyds, isn't that her?" Both Lydia's and Josh's heads swung around to the front of the school, where a blonde haired girl walked slowly, chatting to a few other girls. She looked over in our direction, saw Josh, and smiled shyly. Lydia raised an eyebrow in my direction, before shoving Josh's shoulder and gesturing for him to go talk to her.

"Go. She's already sold, so just be your usual cutie self and your golden." Josh just rolled his eyes, smiling still as he did so, and then began to move in between the cars, making his way towards Melanie. "Urgh. He's just _so cute_," Lydia said in a tone you might use on a puppy or a baby. Definitely not one you'd normally use on a fourteen year old boy, but hey. This is Lydia we're talking about. She can do whatever she wants to.

I smiled at Lydia's words and locked the car, both of us walking around to meet at the front of the car and leaning against the bonnet.

"How're you feeling?" she asked me.

I scoffed. "I'm fine, Lyds. Well, as fine as any teenager can be on the first day back to school."

Lydia just raised an eyebrow. "You know what I mean. I know you hate first days."

"It's just Christmas break."

"I know that, but it's still the first day back. So I'm going to ask you again; how're you feeling?"

See, here's the thing - my mom always had this big thing about first days at school. It didn't matter if it was the first day of middle school, or of the year, or just of the semester. Whatever the reason, the first day after a break from school was this big deal, like she was pumping us up to make it through the next few months or something. So we'd have a shopping trip the weekend before, for new clothes and school supplies. We'd have a big, family breakfast in the morning of whatever we wanted, and after school, we'd go out for dinner, or have a get together with our friends and neighbours and have an amazing end to the day. It easily beat the back-to-school blues away, and it put everyone in a brilliant mood for a while. Dad tried to continue the tradition after mom died, he did. But it just wasn't the same with such a big part of it missing, and a day that was supposed to cheer everyone up made us all cry instead. So he stopped trying.

After two and a half years, we could probably revive the old tradition and actually make it through the weekend without devolving into teary messes, but I don't think any of us really want to try.

The point is, first days just aren't the same without the First Day Weekend Celebrations, and without Mom. They're harder than they already should be, and it makes me miss her. I mean. I miss her all the time, but it's just so much worse on days like this. My closest friends know this, but it's rarely a conversation we have. It's not that Jackson and Danny don't want to talk about it, it's that they know_ I _don't want to; Jackson understands the feeling of wanting to avoid the subject of dead parents, and Danny doesn't want to upset me. I know they're both there if I need to talk to them, but Lydia's the only one who'll bring it up, who'll push me to talk about it. Which is exactly what she's doing now.

"I don't know, Lyds. I'm alright, I guess. It gets easier every First Day, but it still sucks."

Lydia nodded. "Did you want to skip? We can go to the movies or something." I smiled.

"I'll have to do the First Day sooner or later. I'd much rather get it over with. But thank you." I looked over to send her a smile, and I got one of the few genuine Lydia Martin smiles back. "I might take you up on that offer later."

"Well, don't hold on to that offer for too long. It has an expiry date, you know. Oh, there's Jessica." I looked over to where Lydia was looking, and my eye caught Scott approaching the front steps from the bike rack.

"Okay, well I have someone I need to talk to you, so I'll catch the two of you in a minute, okay?" Lydia frowned in confusion, but shrugged and nodded, giving me a off-hand wave as she turned to meet our friend. I quickly followed Josh's steps, moving in between the parked cars and making my way over to where Scott was talking to Stilinski. I heard them talking about the wound covered by a bandage as I approached from Scott's left.

"… I'm pretty sure it was a wolf." Stilinski snorted at Scott and was about to reply before I cut in.

"I already told you, Scott. It definitely was not a wolf." Stilinski frowned, looking between Scott and I as Scott groaned.

"And like I already told _you_, I heard howling."

"Scott," Stilinski said, exasperated and still frowning. "California doesn't have wolves. Not for the last sixty years." Good riddance.

"Really?" Scott asked, unsure of himself.

"Yes, really. There are no wolves in California," Stilinski repeated.

"Well, if you don't believe me about the wolf, then you're definitely not going to believe me when I tell you I found the…" Scott looked at me, smiled awkwardly, and then continued with, "… the _thing_." As in, the disembodied hand?

"What thing?" Stilinski asked, as confused as me, before realisation dawned on his face. "Wait, are you kidding me? You found the dead body?"

"The WHAT?!" Scott winced and took a step back from me as I continued shouting at him. "You were out there looking for a _dead body_? Are you freaking stupid?!"

"Well, according to you…" Scott countered, suddenly looking more sure of himself.

"Oh, don't even _try_ the guilt trip," I responded, pointing a finger at Scott as he rolled his eyes. "I almost got groused for life this morning because you and your little buddy wanted to looking for a dead body in the woods?"

"Oh, so _that's_ why you're here," Stilinski interrupted, nodding his head slowly as he looked between Scott and I. "For a second there, I thought you'd hit your head and forgotten that we're not actually friends."

"Oh, yeah, you're right, Stilinski. It's not just daylight that I can't see when I'm this far up my own ass; it's who I'm talking to, too. My bad."

Stilisnki was about to reply, with an incredibly sarcastic remark, if his expression was anything to go by, but he was interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind me. The change in Stilinski's face told me exactly who it was. I turned to confirm that thought and found Lydia and Jessica, arm in arm, looking from me to the two boys behind me in confusion and a little bit of surprise.

"Amber, are you done talking to…" Lydia trailed off, thinking. I didn't let her finish pretending to remember their names.

"Yeah, I'm d-"

"Hey Lydia, how are you? You look-" Lydia didn't even grace Stilinski with a look before she turned on her heel, dragging me along with her free hand in mine. I didn't hear how Stilinski finished that sentence, but I did hear something about being 'Scarlet-nerded' by Scott. I don't think that's his problem.

* * *

I said goodbye to Lydia and Jessica as we got to the door of my English class, my first period of the day. I took a seat in the last row, as the class started to fill up. Scott and Stilinski soon came through the door, shortly followed by our teacher, and they took seats in the row in front of me as he started talking.

"As you all know by now, there was indeed a body found in the woods last night." I turned sharply in my seat and glared at Scott, who shrank a little in his seat. "I'm sure your eager little minds are coming up with all sorts of macabre scenarios as to how it happened, but I've been told that the police have a suspect in custody." The teacher started to shuffle the papers on his desk, picking out a few from the rest. "A vagrant with a long history of psychiatric disorders was discovered camping out in the woods near where the body was found. Which means…" he held up the pieces of paper he had singled out to show the class. "…your undivided attention can be given to the syllabus outlining the semester on your desks. Read it now. And by read, I don't mean skim."

The room filled with the sound of people flicking through the syllabuses, but other than that was pretty silent as the teacher began writing on the blackboard. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Scott's heard whipping around to look about the classroom. I sent him a questioning look, and he just shook his head, wincing and then staring out of the window, lost in his own world.

I shook my head at the boy and continued to read the syllabus, trying my hardest to ignore his weird behaviour as he continued to look around the room, head cocked to the side like a confused puppy.

The door to the classroom opened then, and the principal walked in, followed shortly by a pretty brunette that I hadn't seen before, and addressed the class.

"Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome." The teacher gestured for Allison to take the seat on my left, the only open one remaining. She walked through the desks, Scott's gaze following her the entire time, and when she was settled in her seat he turned around in his own, and held out a pen. A _pen_. That's it, no 'hello, welcome to Beacon Hills', or 'let me know if you need anything'. Just a pen and a smile.

The weirdest thing was, however, that it seemed to work.

Allison smiled, a little confused but smiling all the same. "Thanks," she said, cocking an eyebrow. Scott smiled back, that little puppy dog smile, and turned to face the front again. Allison continued to gaze at the back of Scott's head, still smiling, and I could tell from my seat that Scott was pretty pleased with himself.

Allison turned to me, her smile smaller and more private than before, and blushed when I cocked an eyebrow and gestured between the two of them.

Our teacher started speaking again before I could say anything to the new girl. "Okay, let's begin with Kafka."

* * *

"So, you're here all of one day and you've already got someone's eye on you."

I leant against the locker next to Allison's as she swapped her books out, closing the locker with a gentle push. She blushed and ducked her head at my comment, turning to rest her shoulder against her locker and casting a quick glance across the corridor, where Scott, Stilinski and some girl I didn't recognise were talking. Well, two of them were talking, the lovestruck puppy was staring right back at Allison.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she responded, looking back to me with a small smile and her dimples showing. "Not that I'm opposed to pretty eyes on me." I giggled at Allison's comment, and the cheeky grin on her face, and she stood up straight and stuck her hand out between us. "I'm Allison. But you already knew that." I smiled again as she huffed at herself, reaching out to shake her hand.

"Amber. Amber Wilson." I looked over her shoulder and saw Lydia striding towards us, pouting and locked on Allison's frame. "And that," I said, gesturing at the oncoming storm, "is Lydia Martin." Allison turned her head, throwing a bright smile at Scott as she did so, just as Lydia stopped in between the two of us. She plucked at the shoulder of Allison's jacket.

"That jacket is absolutely killer. Where'd you get it?"

"My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco," Allison replied, a little taken aback.

Lydia smiled. "And you are my new best friend." I cleared my throat, pointedly, and Lydia rolled her eyes. "Please, we both know Jackson's your best friend. It's not something that I cry myself to sleep about, but I really do need my own best friend." Lydia turned her attention back to Allison, her smile almost predatory. "And you fit the bill just perfectly." Allison smiled shyly, just as Jackson showed up, throwing an arm around Lydia's shoulder and leaning down for a (rather inappropriately affectionate) kiss.

"So," Lydia said, finally separating her mouth from Jackson's. "This weekend, there's a party."

"A party?" Allison asked, unsure.

"Yeah, Friday night." I supplied. "You should come."

"Uh, I can't." Allison responded, shaking her head. "It's family night on Friday."

"You sure?" Jackson asked. "Everyone's going after the scrimmage."

"You mean like football?" Oh, god.

Jackson scoffed. "Football is a joke at Beacon. The sport here is lacrosse. We've won the state championship for the last three years-"

"Because of a certain team captain." Lydia cut in, a proud smile on her face. I could barely contain my eye roll.

"We practice in a few minutes. If you don't have anything else to do…"

"Well," I could tell Allison was overwhelmed, and was about to cut in to help when Lydia decided for her.

"Perfect. You're coming." I smiled in a 'it's your own fault, you should've gotten out quicker' manner, and Lydia grabbed Allison's sleeve. "Come on, girls. Let's go get some good seats."

* * *

We made our way up the bleachers, wrapped up in out coats to ward of the January chill. There was a lot of noise coming from the field, the boys chatting amongst themselves and warming up for practice. Coach blew his whistle, gathering the team together for a before-practice pep talk, or whatever. I saw Josh on the field, bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement; it was his first try-out, being a freshman, and this was all he had been able to talk about since before Christmas. I also didn't miss Melanie as she made her way up the bleachers, giving shy wave to Josh when he caught her eye, and sitting down a few rows below us. Josh looked up at me after beaming back at Melanie, and Lydia and I gave him a thumbs-up before Coach started yelling. Again.

"McCall!" The wind blew the rest of the sentence away, but Scott alkyd over to Coach looking a little lost.

"Who's he?" Allison asked.

"I'm not sure who he is. Why?" Lydia answered.

"He's in my English class." Allison tried to shrug it off, like she wasn't completely obvious. I noticed Scott look over towards us - or towards Allison, let's be honest - like he'd heard Allison striking up an 'innocent' conversation about him.

"That's Scott McCall." The whistle blew, and Scott's hands flew to cover his ears. Weird. "I don't know much about him, other than he's not-" The ball hurtled towards Scott's head, bouncing off his helmet and knocking him back a little. "-ooh. Not great at lacrosse, but he's sweet as pie and cuter than a button, I reckon."

Scott must have decided that that was the best moment to up his game. He made some impressive moves, stopping shots I never would've thought he would've been able to stop, not after spending so much time on the bench.

"He seems pretty good, actually." Allison looked at me, a small, almost proud smile on her face.

"Yeah, he is…" I couldn't tell if Lydia was impressed or annoyed at the benchwarmer's skills.

_Oh, God_, I thought, as I saw Jackson make his way towards the goal, his face set in anger and determination. _Don't embarrass him too bad, Sonny_.

Or, you know, get embarrassed yourself when Scott turns around and he stops it with all of no effort.

I'm glad Stilinski chose that moment to start screaming about Scott being his friend, because no one could hear Jackson's expletives.

* * *

I was making my way from the front door to my car when I heard the howling.

It was a little before half four, and my shift at Beacon's Ballads, the local music store, started at five, so it wasn't like I was going to be late if I took a bit of a detour to find out why there was howling coming from a little while behind the house. I made my way around the house, hearing the following, very non-wolflike, laughter die down a little as I walked, and my heart rate died down with it, back to a semi-normal rate.

"It's not funny!" I recognised Scott's voice and rolled my eyes. _What in God's name was he doing back here?_ "There's something seriously wrong with me?"

"I know; you're a werewolf!" Stilinski laughed, and as I got closer I saw Scott giving him a not-so-impressed look. "Okay, obviously I'm kidding. But if you see me trying to melt all the silver I can find, it's because Friday is the full moon." Scott just rolled his eyes, then started to look for something on the ground, catching sight of me along the way. He stood up straight, scratching the back of his head.

"Am I on your land again?" He smiled, kind of sheepishly, and I just knew Allison was a goner.

I held up my thumb and forefinger a little while apart in response to his question, then folded my arms and jutted my hip out, but I smiled a little back, to show I was joking. Stilinski turned around to see who Scott was talking to, and scoffed, rolling his eyes. I ignored him. "Not quite. Y'all still looking for your inhaler?" I asked, pretty much already knowing the answer. He nodded.

"I could have sworn it was here. I saw the body-"

"Urgh."

"-the stags running…I dropped my inhaler." Scott continued looking for his inhaler, looking almost disappointed, so I moved closer, figuring I could spare a few minutes to help him find it. Stilinski started looking around the forest floor too.

"Maybe the killer moved the body," Stilinski suggested.

"Can we please stop talking about the body?"

"If he did move…" Scott looked up at me, and winced. "…_it, _I hope he didn't take my inhaler. Those things cost, like, eighty bucks."

I turned around, eyes trained on the floor, and, instead of finding an inhaler, I found a pair of shoes moving closer to us. Stilinski must have seen it too, because he shoved at Scott's shoulder, getting him to stand up.

"What are you doing here? This is private property." _Rude_. The man, young, dark haired and, well, hot, stood a number of feet from us, but I could still feel the anger rolling off of him. Scott moved just the smallest amount, turning his body so his shoulder came between the guy and me. The guy _definitely _caught that.

"Sorry, man." Stilinski replied. "We didn't know."

"Yeah, we were just…" Scott couldn't look away from the guy. "Looking for something… Forget it." I shoved at Scott's shoulder a little, trying to push past it.

"His inhaler. We were looking for-" The guy cut me off with a flick of his arm, thrown something at Scott, who caught it without trouble. He opened his palm to see an inhaler.

"Stay on your own property," the guy directed at me. With that, he turned on his heel and stalked back to wherever he'd come from. Rudeville, apparently.

"Dude, do you know who that is?" Stilinski asked Scott, excited. Scott frowned, shaking his head. "That was Derek Hale. You remember, right? He's just a few years older than us."

"Remember what?" Scott asked, seeing my confusion in addition to his own.

"His family. They all died in a house fire, like, ten years ago."

Scott frowned. "I wonder what he's doing back."

I shrugged. "Maybe he just missed home, but it's not like it's any of our business." I checked my watch, seeing I had just enough time to get to work before my shift started. "I need to get to work."

"You work?" Stilinski asked. His frown suggested that was the last thing he was expecting.

"Yeah. It's kind of a common thing among people these days."

"There's no need for the sarcasm, _Wilson_."

"That coming from the king of unnecessary sarcastic remarks, _Stilinski_."

"I just didn't expect you be the type to work when I'm sure _Daddy _can get you whatever you what."

I raised an eyebrow, for once too shocked to reply. So, instead, I just shook my head and turned around, heading back towards my car. "I don't have time for this." I threw an added "And get off my land!" over my shoulder as I walked.

* * *

"I swear, the dude is _on_ something."

Jackson and I were sat on the bleachers during our gym period together, and he just couldn't take his eyes off of McCall. If I didn't know him any better, I'd say he were in love.

"Jackson, he's not on anything. He just got good over winter break."

"You don't just 'get good' over winter break, Amber. To get that good, it either takes months, years of practice, or some _enhancing._" He shook his head as Scott caught a ball from Danny, and threw it right back at him. I'll admit, it was a little weird; no one ever beat Danny in dodgeball. "My bet is on the latter."

"Jackson…"

"No, I'm serious. He's even been acting really weird." I heard Allison laugh at something Lydia said as she caught a ball from another player, Lydia doing the same shortly after, and calling the both of us back into the game. Scott cocked his head, his mouth open and brow furrowed in concentration, like he was listening to something, even though no one was talking to him. "See what I mean?"

"I do, but that doesn't mean he's on _drugs_, Jackson."

"Mm. I'll just have to have a little chat with him and find out for myself."

"Urgh. Sure thing, Sonny."

"Don't call-" I caught a ball thrown in my direction.

"Oh, Danny boy. Get your ass back in the game and sort your best friend out."

"He's your best friend too," Danny replied as he jogged his way over. "I get responsibility of him in lacrosse, can't you get him in gym?"

"Danny, I try my best. But sometimes, I just can't get through to him."

"When can anyone?" Danny said, patting my shoulder.

* * *

Okay, so…

Maybe Jackson had a point.

I know, I know! But Scott _was_ ridiculously good during the scrimmage. He was terrible before Christmas, unfit, uncoordinated and suffering from asthma. It's understandable to start question how he got so good so quickly, good enough, in fact, to make first line. It was suspicious, that's all. I'm not saying that drugs were involved, just that it's a theory that has potential. That's all.

But that's not important right now.

What's important is that Lydia had me precariously dangling over the pool on a ladder that she was _supposed_ to be holding steady.

"For the love of God. Lydia!" She looked up from expecting the nails on one hand, the other wrapped lazily around one of the legs of the ladder. "Would you _please_ stop acting like a complete ditz and hold this steady so that I don't fall to my untimely death."

"Right." Lydia pouted, holding the ladder with both hands now, tilting her head as she examined my handiwork.

"I swear to God, Lyds, if you criticise those lights-"

"I was just going to say that they look really pretty. You did a great job." She smiled, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Those are some good schmoozing skills right there, Miss Martin. Your mother taught you well." I heard Lydia laugh quietly as I finished the lights, making my way back down the ladder.

"Thank you, by the way," Lydia said quietly. She's not great with heights.

"Anytime." I swung an arm around Lydia's shoulders, leading her back into the house. "Just remember that Benny wants in on the next party, since he's covering my shift tonight."

"I know, just remind me before hand so Jackson doesn't throw him out or something. You know how he gets with seniors."

"So jealous, that boy."

"Come on, I want you to do my hair while I sort out my nails. They're a _total_ mess."

* * *

The party was in full swing by the time we came back downstairs.

We'd heard people arriving from upstairs, the house slowly getting louder and louder as more people showed up. Lydia had decided it was finally acceptable for the hostess to attend her own party, and we left her room and made our way into the still-growing crowd downstairs.

It wasn't long before I saw Allison in the crowd, dancing with Scott. She had mentioned a few days ago that he had asked her, and that 'family night' was a total lie, because she hadn't wanted to attend a party with a load of classmates she didn't know without a close friend. Or date, apparently. She had told me the whole romantic story, of how she'd hit a dog with her car, freaked out and taken her to the vet clinic, only to find that Scott worked there. He'd calmed her down, helped the dog and then just asked her out, like it wasn't even a big deal. Even though I'm pretty sure the only actual conversation they'd had before then consisted of Scott giving her a pen and the lone word 'thanks'.

Maybe Allison was Scott's '_enhancement'_.

No, never mind. That's just weird.

I was grabbing a drink and chatting to Danny and Greenberg about the new first line, which, I am incredibly proud to announce my brother made, when I saw Scott rush past us, closely followed by a startled Allison. I excused myself from the conversation and ran after the girl, catching up with her as she slowed to a stop in the drive. I watched over her shoulder as the tyres of Scott's car squealed against the tarmac, before the car shot off down the road. The wind rushed past me as Stilinski sprinted to his Jeep and followed Scott.

Allison hadn't moved from where she'd seen her date leave her stranded.

* * *

**A/N: And there it is. The start of a new tale for the character we all just love to hate and then hate a little less. Maybe. In my case, anyway. And, you know, the other character. Who's perspective this is from. The story's main character. But whatever. And, hopefully, this story will be just ****_that _****much happier. Hopefully.**

**I don't really know what's happening here, I'm kinda running with this as it goes along. I'm slowly making my way through the first season (with short notes on the second and third seasons) as to how Amber will be fitting in with the local goings-on, so I have a basic idea of how this is going to turn out, but most of it is just seeing where the Wilsons take me, if I'm honest. In case you guys couldn't tell, the Wilsons are from the South, so I'm trying to incorporate a little Southern dialect into the dialogue and whatever, so for any Southerners out there, if something comes across as offensive or something, I don't mean it, and I'm very open to suggestions or help with the language the Wilsons use.**

**Also, the dialogue may be a little off, because I'm using scripts off the internet, but they should be about on track, and it might have changed with Amber in the conversation as well anyway, so… Yeah. And I used some scenes that the pilot script I found online used, but that weren't in the actual episode, so I'll put the link to that on my profile and all credit there goes to the writers and whatnot.**

**Another also! I was a bit iffy with the name, it was a last minute, 'I nee to call it _something_' type deal, so if that one is a bit terrible (or depressing, let's face it) and you don't like it, any suggestions until I figure one out to fit the story would be a great help, thank you!**

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed it and plan to stick around for a little while longer. **

**P.S. I got very, ****_very_**** sad when writing Allison. It's her first scenes, and I couldn't help thinking of her last, and I got a little choked up. Just saying.**


	2. Super Freaky

**A/N: Hey there readers! I was incredibly happy to see that so many of you enjoyed the first chapter, and I would like to thank the guest Melanie for ****_Empty Casket's _****very first review!**

* * *

"Jackson, are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine, Amber."

"Maybe y'all should go to the hospital, get it checked out again."

"Maybe he should stop crying like a little girl and take something for it."

I rolled my eyes at Lydia's response, while Jackson scoffed and pretended he hadn't heard her. I had been stood behind the counter at work, preparing coffees for the customers when Jackson and Lydia had come in, quickly telling me about everything that had happened at today's Lacrosse practice.

Jackson's theory about Scott being on something was making more and more sense every day, I swear.

"Jackson, I really think-"

"Can we talk about something else now? I'm bored of this conversation." I raised an eyebrow at Lydia, who shrugged in response. Jackson rotated his shoulder slowly, wincing as he did. "Did you hear about Allison and that guy…" She tilted her head, a frown on her face.

"Scott, Lyds. Scott McCall. You've been going to school with him since kindergarten."

"Whatever," Lydia shook her head, waving a hand between us from where I was sat with them on my break. I caught sight of Jackson rubbing at his shoulder out of the corner of my eye. "So, basically, Allison must have suffered some kind of head trauma; despite him ditching her like a complete dick at my party, she's decided to give him a second chance. I mean, seriously? Who does that?"

I gave a pointed nod of my head towards Jackson, to which Lydia grinned.

"I saw that."

"And I saw y'all trying to pretend like your shoulder ain't hurting."

"Would you give it a rest?" He twirled quickly in his seat to glare at me, and I could see the deliberate way he moved his shoulder as little as possible. "I said I'm fine."

"Yeah, you look it." Jackson growled at sarcasm in my response, and Lydia raised an eyebrow.

"I'm just…" She pouted, frowning, and pointed towards where Rachel was working behind the counter. "I'm just gonna go… anywhere but here." She nodded, and stood, looking like she wanted to say something else. "Okay."

Jackson and I sat in silence for a few moments after Lydia had sauntered away, before he sighed loudly, looking anywhere but at me. "I don't need to see the doctor again, Am."

Typical Sonny, refusing to admit that he needs help. "Okay, alright, I get it. You're fine." Jackson nodded. "Could you at least go for me?"

"Am…"

"Please? Just to put my mind at ease. I hate seeing you like this." He sighed again, making the terrible mistake of looking me in the eye. That's when I whipped out the 'kicked puppy', and he was done for.

Jackson groaned, letting his head hit the table. He sucked in a deep breath as he sat upright again, slowly shaking his head at me.

"Fine. We can go again tomorrow, after school. And you can buy the ice cream."

I held my hands up beside me, glad to change the subject. "Whoa, now. Who says you're getting ice cream?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Hospital patients always get ice cream. It's common knowledge," he explained, nodding his head.

"Pretty sure that's just when you're getting tonsils out or something." Jackson looked up, as though thinking about it, before shaking his head slowly.

"No. No, I'm pretty sure it's for any hospital visits." He held up a finger, drawing attention to his point. "I distinctly remember getting ice cream when I broke my arm in fourth grade."

"Is that so?" I asked, tilting my head. He nodded, and I scoffed.

* * *

"I'm just saying, Lyds. I really don't think Allison would appreciate it so much if she knew your actual, manipulative agenda behind it."

"Oh, would you relax? It's just a little motivation for McCall."

I shook my head as we sat in the hospital waiting room, waiting for Jackson to finish being checked over by the doctor. He'd been seen yesterday, but the pain of his separated shoulder was a little overwhelming, and he wouldn't have been able to play without a little help. Lydia had insisted he get something to… boost his performance while he was getting the pain sorted out, what with her 'I don't date losers' motto.

"'Motivation' aside," I started, air quotes and all, "how do you think Allison would feel when she finds out that you introducing her to the lacrosse team ain't y'all being little Miss Welcoming Party?"

"I guess I'll never know, because _she'll_ never know," Lydia responded, examining her fingernails. "Aside from me, there are only two people who know why I'm doing what I'm doing. McCall's not going to tell her because, c'mon, it's McCall, and he should be so lucky to even get a second date with her, let alone her exclusivity. And _you're_ not going to tell her because I told you in confidence, and you never break a pinky promise." Urgh. That little Prom Queen knew me far too well.

"Fine. Just… don't say I didn't warn y'all." Lydia shot me a small smile, resting a hand on my arm.

"The end justifies the means, Amber. Just trust me, and don't worry that sweet little Southern head of yours." I rolled my eyes, and she smiled again as her phone began to ring. "Oh, it's Jessica. Mind if I take this?"

"No, you go ahead. I was gonna go and grab something from the vending machines. Do you want anything?" Lydia shook her head with a smile before putting her Bluetooth in and answering the call.

The vending machines weren't far from the waiting room, placed conveniently close by for patients and family members who didn't want to make the much longer trek to the cafeteria, but trust me when I tell you the options are much more limited. And given the choices in the cafeteria, that's saying something.

I'm not a huge fan of chocolate, leaning more towards candy, ice cream and the likes when it comes to sweets, but one thing I would never turn down is a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup, so I didn't even try to hide my grin when I saw that's exactly what they had in one of their vending machines. I got a bottle of coke too, to wash down the sticky goodness (please, _please_ no dirty jokes here, people) of the peanut butter (the _peanut butter_, people!), and made my way back to where Lydia was waiting.

I stopped short, however, when I came to the edge of the waiting room and saw Stilinski leaning up against the near wall nonchalantly, talking to Lydia… who, I'm pretty sure, was still talking to Jessica.

"I sit behind you, in Biology…" I leant up against the wall, away from where Lydia would see me and give away my presence, but close enough to hear Stilinski as he spoke. Though I'm not sure if he meant that as a statement or question. "Uh. anyway… I've always thought that we had this kind of connection?" He scoffed gently at himself as I held a hand up to my mouth to stop from laughing out loud. Lydia had yet to respond. "Unspoken, of course." _Oh, my lord_. "Maybe it'd be kinda cool to…" _He's not going to…_ "Get to know each other a little better." _He is going to._

"Hold on, give me a second," I heard Lydia say. To Stilinski? "Yeah, I didn't get any of what you just said." Apparently _not_ to Stilinski. "Is it worth repeating?" _Ouch_.

"Uh, umm." Stiles floundered a little, waving is non-leaning arm about. "No. Sorry." He sounded like a child as he apologised to Lydia, who presumably went back to her phone call, and backed away.

I almost felt bad for the guy.

That feeling, however, only stayed until he turned around, caught sight of my (probably shit-eating) grin, hidden poorly by my hand, and glared.

"What do you want?" he spat.

"Oh, nothing now. I just got all the entertainment I need for a week watching that train wreck." I hadn't thought it possible, but his glare actually intensified, his eyes narrowing further before he stepped around me to storm off. "Oh, come on, Stilinski," I started as I followed him. "Don't tell me y'all are afraid of a little friendly banter."

"'Friendly banter' would suggest that we're friends," he shot back, turning fall into a chair a little further down the corridor. Was he waiting here for someone?

"Ouch, Stilinski. I'm hurt. Really." I clutched at my chest, just over my heart, wincing dramatically as he rolled his eyes.

"What do you want, Wilson?"

I sighed. "Originally, I was just here for the fun of it. But now that I see y'all are done hitting on Lydia for the time being-" the mock laughing from him told me he didn't find it all that funny, "- I was wondering what you were doing here."

Stilinski's head shot up so quickly it was almost comical. "What?" he asked, his eyes wide. Mine were rolling.

"Despite what you, and most other people, think, I'm actually _not_ a total bitch. And you're waiting in a hospital. Alone, might I add. I just wanted to make sure it was nothing serious?" I left it as a question, waiting for him to answer it. Instead, he gaped like a fish. For a full thirty seconds.

"Jeez, Stilinski, is it really that hard a question to answer?"

"Well, I mean, what if it was serious?" he asked, arms spreading wide in question. "What would you do then?"

"Is it serious?"

"No."

"Then I guess it doesn't matter what I would do, huh?" I smiled, and he scoffed before responding.

"Yeah, a load of help you'd…" Stilinski slowed to a stop before he'd finished his sentence as he looked back into the waiting room. When I saw his mouth downturn into a look of slight disgust, I looked over to find out what was so gross, only to find two of my best friends making out in the middle of a waiting room. A _hospital_ waiting room. With _sick_ people.

I swear, those two have no principles.

I scoffed, kind of grossed out with how heavy they were doing it, and turned back to Stilinski, who was still staring at the couple.

"Hey, Stilinski." I snapped my fingers in front of his face to grab his attention, and he blinked and turned back to me. "I know everyone has their little kinks, but keep it confined to your bedroom, okay?"

"Stiles!" I turned at the familiar voice, finding Scott coming out of a doorway. One that I'm pretty sure led to staff only areas, but whatever. I was pretty sure I'd seen his mom walking around earlier on, and he probably did it all the time. The morgue, though? Nope, I did _not_ want to know.

"Amber, let's go already," I heard Jackson call.

"Only if y'all are done trying to taste the back of each other's throats!" I turned towards the two of them, but stopped before I'd gotten too far from Stilinski. "Voyeurism isn't a good look, Stilinski."

"Neither is 'total bitch', Wilson. Maybe you should stop putting it on." Stiles stood up as Scott looked between the two of us, frowning. Stiles grabbed Scott's arm, pulling him in the opposite direction, and as I turned, I heard the beginnings of a really weird conversation. Even for Beacon Hills.

"The scent was the same."

That is weird, right? It's not just me?

* * *

Okay, so I know I didn't grow up in the same location as Jackson, but he was still always a huge influence on me, pretty much since birth. He's a little older than me (no more than a month, but he would never let me forget it), so he always kind of felt like the big brother I never had. I looked up to him, and tried to do everything he did.

That's pretty much why, despite everyone else in my family hating any and all forms of exercise, I love it. It was mainly the competition; constantly trying to prove that anything he could do, I could do better. Half the time, I can, but that's beside the point.

The point is I was out running that night. I prefer running when it's darker and colder, so I waited until the sun began to set before I left. I'm not sure how long I was out for, but it was pitch black as I neared home, so my headphones were back in my pocket and my senses were heightened. Because, you know… bad things happen in the middle of a preserve at night. I'm pretty sure people aren't even supposed to be out here that late, but I basically lived in there anyway, so what can you do?

I digressed. Again.

The point is… I was out running that night. And while I was out running, my ears, strained and tuned to pick up pretty much any noise that would suggest trouble for my fragile self, picked up chatter, through the trees on my left.

It was the chatter that drew me closer. Had it been muttering, whispering, shouting, or anything like that, I would've bolted. There would have been nothing left in that spot where I stood but a dust cloud. But, I mean, who chatters when they're doing something dodgy and/or frightening out in the middle of the woods? Exactly; no one. Either the people over there were perfectly friendly, possibly lost, or they're just stupid. And neither of those options were particularly terrifying.

So, instead of running away, I walked closer. As I made my way through the trees, the light cast down by the moon outlined the burnt remains of the massive house that once stood here. We'd noticed it a few days after we had first moved in, but we'd never asked anyone about the house. I'm not sure I'd ever really wanted to know, and after what Stilinski had told Scott and I the other day while we were out here, I kinda wished I still didn't know.

I drew closer to the voices, and they started becoming much clearer. And familiar.

"…I run the other. Whoever he catches first… too bad." _These guys are _everywhere _lately. _I walked through the line of trees, leaning against the trunk of one as I watched them… shovelling?

"I hate that plan," Scott said.

"Yeah, that's a pretty terrible plan," I cut in. They both jumped, heads whipping up simultaneously to find the owner of the voice. "Whatever it's for."

"Jesus," Stilinski breathed, hand on his heart like he was trying to slow it down. "Warn a guy!"

"Ahh, that wouldn't have been half as fun."

"What…" Scott started, looking from me, to Stiles, to the ditch they were currently digging. "What're you doing out here?"

"I could say the same to you, but y'all are making it pretty obvious." I stepped closer, and Scott's handle on his shovel tightened. "What with the digging and all. What's not obvious is the reason _behind_ the digging."

"The reason _behind_ the digging," Stilinski answered, all the sarcastic inflection on the word, "is none of your business. So, you go ahead and run along now." He made a gesture, using his two fingers as running legs in the air.

"Yeah, Amber," Scott joined in, looking at me with an expression I had mastered (and therefore become immune to) many years ago. "It's cold out, and it's late. It could be dangerous."

"Which totally explains why you guys are still out here. On someone else's property. With _shovels_."

"Oh, my god, Wilson," Stilinski exclaimed, rolling his eyes with so much force his whole head moved. "Would you just-". Mid rant, he had loosened his grip on the shovel, allowing it to slip between his fingers, and it had dropped to the dirt beneath it. But instead of its usual light, scraping noise, the sound was deeper, almost solid. Like it had hit something other than dirt.

The two boys looked at each other from their stance in the hole in the ground, before looking at me, then to the ditch, back at me, then at each other again. I smirked.

"Whatcha got there?"

"Nothing," Scott said, far too quickly. My smirk grew a little at Stilinski's 'nice going, Scott' face. I hummed in doubt, moving closer to the dirt.

"Don't you think you should be getting home now?" Scott asked, sounding a little desperate.

"Don't worry; I won't expect an equal cut if you've found buried treasure in there or something. I'll be happy with 25 per cent, since you boys did all the manual labour."

"Wow, really?" Stilinski asked, a look of mock surprise on his face. "That's so kind of you. But we've got it, thanks."

"Uh huh. I just want a peek."

"No, you don't," Scott responded as I perched myself on the edge of the hole, shaking his head solemnly. Too solemnly for buried treasure. "Trust me, you really, _really_ don't."

"So just tell me what it is." From where I was stood, I could just make out something shining in the faint moonlight. Not metallic, but just something reflective, maybe a tarp or something.

They both responded in unison, without even looking at each other. "No."

I shrugged. "Fine." I leant down, leaning a hand beside my feet on the edge of the ditch, and jumped down beside the two boys. Before they could get much more out of their mouths other than a few incoherent squawks, I had begun untying the knotted rope wrapped around the material. I struggled with the first knot for a few seconds before looking over my shoulder to the two boys, arguing with one another with harsh whispers, strained faces and erratic arm movements. After a few moments, Stilinski noticed me observing their argument with a raised eyebrow, and immediately shut up.

"Are either of y'all gonna help me, or am I gonna have to do this whole thing myself?" Scott huffed, shrugging at Stilinski, who just ran his hands over his face.

"Fine. Whatever. But I'm not paying for the therapy she's going to need after this." They both knelt down in the dirt, pulling at the knots and slowly letting the knots loose. We worked in near silence, except for the occasional grunt or sigh, until, eventually, the trap came free from the rope. The two of them dusted at the dirt, pushing it away from the opening of the tarp as I knelt back on my haunches, very nearly trembling with excitement. Or maybe that was the cold. Whatever, I was trembling either way.

Scott took one edge of the cover, and Doofus took the other, and they pulled it apart to reveal…

A wolf.

Goddamn it, I was so looking forward to my Goonies happy ending, and instead we find a wolf. A dead wolf.

I'm not ashamed to admit that, in that moment, I screamed. Like a child. I'm mostly not ashamed to admit this because my present company – the alive company, that is – did the same thing.

While busy screaming, we – somehow, don't ask me how – managed to jump up and backwards, out of the ditch, and scrambled away from the hole, and I made sure I couldn't see the horrendous dead thing anymore.

"What the hell is that?!" I heard Stilinski shout over the sound of my blood pounding in my ears.

"What the hell do you think it is?!" I screamed back. "It's a freaking wolf, Stilinski!"

"Yeah, I can see that!" He glared at me, before turning to Scott. "I thought you said you smelt blo-" _What?_ They both quickly turned to look at me, eyes wide and mouths gaping. I shook my head, finding it hard to catch my breath.

"No. Nope. This is all too weird and traumatising for me. I'm done, I'm out." I stood up, turning away from the ditch and trying to suck in as much of the cool night air as I could. I heard them muttering about blood or something behind me, but I couldn't bring myself to care about the details of their conversation. I dropped my chin to my chest as they began to cover it back up again, and I was about to ask why they felt the need to dig up a dead wolf body in the first place when something caught my eye.

"What's wrong?" I heard Scott ask behind me. I tilted my head and knelt down besides the small purple plant, and within seconds, Stilinski was crawling up beside me, staring at the plant with the same reaction as me. I recognised this flower.

"I think it's…"

"Wolf's Bane," I finished for the boy beside me as I reached out to touch the petals.

"What's that?" Scott asked. He was knelt on my other side, and Stilinski scoffed over the flower at him in disbelief.

"Haven't you ever seen The Wolf Man? The original classic werewolf movie?" Scott shook his head no, and Stilinski's head copied the movement in disappointment. "You are so unprepared for this," Stiles muttered. That caught my attention.

"So unprepared for what?" I asked them. They both turned to look at me, almost as if they'd forgotten I was there, but neither of them answered. Instead, Stilinski's hand came out to pull mine back, away from the flower, and he stared at the stem, the roots, for a few seconds, before grasping the plant and pulling on it. It came up without any resistance, but was followed by a thick rope, attaching the plant to the dirt. Stilinski pulled at it again, bringing up the rope from inches into the dirt and following the rope as it circled around the ditch – well, the grave. Scott and I just looked on in equal parts morbid fascination and curiosity. After a minute or two of going around in circles – literally – the rope came free from the dirt, and Stilinski held it up in his hands before dropping it in a heap on the floor, a frown on his face. Scott turned to look from him to me, all of our expressions matching, but did a double take as his eyes passed the… grave. Urgh.

"Stiles…" Scott murmured, as Stilinski walked to his side. He flinched back as he looked into the grave, and curiosity got the better of my fears as I scrambled over to stand beside Scott.

At least I didn't scream this time. And seeing a dead human body – sorry, _half_ a dead human body – is a lot more horrific than seeing an animal one.

Trust me.

* * *

"Daddy, I swear; this wasn't any form of gang initiation."

"It seems a hell of a lot like one to me."

So, obviously, after we'd found the body – the human one, I mean – Stiles had gone home and told his dad. You know, the Sheriff. He and Scott had given me a ride home, even if it was all of a two minute drive to the main road, and we'd informed my dad. Then they'd left to go to the station to find the Sheriff, and I'd been left to stay up all night and try to explain to my dad what I was doing with two members of a gang. Apparently.

"Daddy, they're not even _gang members_. Does Beacon even _have_ gangs?"

"Every town has gangs, Amber, but that ain't the point. What were you doing digging up dead bodies in the middle of the woods?"

"Okay, firstly," I held up a finger to count off my points, "it's _body_. Singular. Secondly, I wasn't even doing the digging. I was just out for a run, and when I heard their voices, I stopped and asked them what they were doing."

"Why would you stop to talk to gang members in-"

"They're not even gang members!" The knock at the door, at this lovely hour of six am, could only suggest the Sheriff, and Dad and I left out argument at the breakfast bar to answer the door.

I know what you're thinking. Did I tell my dad that the dead wolf was somehow replaced with a dead girl? The answer to that would be 'hell no'. I've been to enough therapy sessions, thanks, and I really didn't need anymore. Especially when I'm already 73 per cent of the way through convincing myself I was so traumatised by the dead girl that I imagined it to be a wolf to spare me the scaring effects, and therefore there was no wolf to mysteriously disappear in the first place. So… yeah. I was pretty much doing anything to avoid admitting what I had seen, because that required a lot of answers. Answers I didn't have. So, instead, I did what Scott and Stiles had begged me to do before I got home, and told my dad it had always been a girl. No dead wolf in sight here, no sir. Much easier than try to explain those events to a pretty close-minded college professor who believed every question could be answered – to a certain degree – with the right formula. I was having enough trouble believing this, and I saw a fairy when I was a kid. Maybe. It might have been a fly, but I'm pretty sure it was a fairy.

Dad opened the front door to the Sheriff, who greeted him with a handshake and a morbid smile. The he looked to me, and I didn't know whether to cry, run away or tell him everything. And I mean _everything_. Chunk style.

"Amber. How are you feeling this morning?" I nodded.

"I'm okay, thank you Sheriff."

"You know if you need any help after what you saw last night…"

"I know, Sheriff. I appreciate it, but I think I'm handling it okay right now."

"Okay, that's good to hear. I'm just here to get your statement, see what you know about Mr Hale-" Oh.

"Derek? Derek Hale?" The Sheriff nodded.

"Do you know him?" he asked, a grave look on his face.

"No, I uh… I saw him just out back, the other day, when I was with Scott and Stiles…"

The Sheriff frowned. "What were they doing out here?"

"Looking for Scott's inhaler. He'd lost it the night before…" I trailed off as the Sheriff sighed heavily, running a hand over his face.

"Did they tell you how he lost his inhaler?"

"Uh…"

"It didn't have anything to do with looking for a dead body, did it?" I nodded, and the Sheriff dropped his head, his hands on his hips.

"Why do I get the feeling I just got one or both of them in trouble?"

"Oh, one or both of them got themselves in trouble. You just helped me catch one or both of them in their lie, that's all."

* * *

I stood beside Scott as Stiles was dragged out of and away from the murderer-holding car by his dad, before the Sheriff started laying into him.

"Why would he think getting into a cruiser with a killer was a good idea anyway?" I asked Scott as we leant against the Jeep.

"Sometimes, Stiles does things that only Stiles understands." I saw Stiles charging towards us with a less-than-friendly look on his face, and I kind of figured that, despite me asking him not to, the Sheriff had told Stiles I'd kind of screwed up his ongoing plan to lie to his dad.

"Thank you very much, Wilson, for your kind words to my dad about our whereabouts the other night."

"Well, if I'd known that you were lying about said whereabouts in the first place, maybe I wouldn't have accidently said something I shouldn't have. I mean, y'all have been instructing me on which lie to tell next for the past twelve hours or so, so excuse me for getting confused when left to my own devices!"

I cleared my throat as Scott and Stiles started at me, a little wide-eyed, after my small rant. I huffed.

"I'm sorry. I'm really not good with lying to my daddy, that's all."

"No, it's okay." Scott put a hand on my shoulder, trying to comfort me. "We get that it's a lot to ask." I nodded.

"So, are either of y'all actually going to tell me what the hell went on with that body last night?" They looked at each other, having a silent conversation between them. I scoffed. "That's a 'no', then."

"Can you just trust us?" Scott asked me, puppy eyes pleading. "For now?"

"Sure, yeah I can trust you. Just about as much as y'all can trust me. Which, right about now, is zilch." I shook my head as Scott opened his mouth to respond. "Don't bother, McCall." His face dropped, and I didn't even feel bad. Well, maybe a little. But he didn't have to know that. "I'm not going to say anything, don't worry. I've already given my statement, and I don't really feel like being made to see a shrink, but next time y'all are digging something up in the woods, I won't be stopping to say hi."

I crossed my arms over my chest, hugging my coat closer to my body, and started walking back to the house.

"Actually, it would've been nice if you hadn't stopped to say hi last night!"

"Suck it, Stilinski!"

* * *

"Your dad hit Scott with a car? Ha!"

"It's not funny, Amber. He could've gotten seriously hurt!"

"He's playing tonight, so I'm sure he's just fine."

"I think it's kind of funny," Lydia cut in from between Allison and I. We were sat on the bleachers, waiting for the players to congregate on the field and start the game, and the whole crowd was buzzing with excitement. "What was he doing lurking around in your driveway anyway?"

"Thank you!" I exclaimed, before turning my attention back to Allison. "I told you that was weird."

"He said he was coming to see me," Allison said, getting quite defensive. "I thought it was romantic."

Despite my earlier falling out with McCall, I couldn't deny either of their feelings for one another. The look on Allison's face was gag-worthy. "Yeah, and it might have continued to be. Had your dad not invited himself to the game." Allison scoffed in agreement.

"I don't mind," Lydia said, a slight…suggestive tone to her voice. "I like your dad."

"Ohh, no," I laughed, hoping to stop that thought from going all kinds of places it shouldn't. "Don't even go there. Maybe just use all those pent up teenage hormones and focus on the game. That sound good? Good. Okay." _Oh my god._

Said game lasted about forty seconds before Jackson decided to barrel right into Scott, knocking him over to grab the ball and score himself. Don't get me wrong, I'm proud of Jackson for being the amazing player and captain that he is, but I didn't think he was the type to sacrifice sportsmanship and team work to make himself look better.

Though, he has been very touchy about the 'McCall' subject lately.

And, apparently, McCall was very touchy about the 'Whittemore' subject, because I'm pretty sure I saw smoke come out of his ears the second he caught sight of the poster we'd made for Jackson. Not to mention his performance for the rest of the game. Before the referee had even blown his whistle, players from the other team were already backing away from Scott, and after he'd seen Jackson's second poster…

Well, players started passing him the ball more often. Players from _the other team_.

You don't have to know a lot about the rules of lacrosse to know they're not supposed to voluntarily do that.

Not to mention that one time he broke the goalie's net, purely by the force of the ball he threw.

Something freaky is going on with McCall.

Like, super freaky.

* * *

**A/N: Super freak, super freak. It's super freaky.**

**Hi guys, hope you enjoyed another chapter of Empty Casket. I'm hoping to get writing a lot now, so I'll (hopefully) be updating my other fics pretty soon. I've already gotten a start on them, so it's just a matter of actually getting it down now.**

**Don't forget to check out my Polyvore and Tumblr (the links are on my profile), and I might start making playlists for stories/chapters, and putting them on 8tracks, so keep an eye out for that too.**

**That's all, folks!**


	3. Can a Person Cheat at Bowling?

**A/N: Firstly, I'd like to thank MSQUEEN21 for the two lovely reviews I received. I have a bit of a plan in store for the not-quite-friendly relationship between Amber and Stiles, so bear with me. I hope you all continue to enjoy the story.**

**Secondly, does anyone have any idea what the class schedule (that we know of) goes like for the first two seasons? I'm trying to piece it together episode by episode, but I'm struggling a little, and it might end up further screwing up the timeline and whatever. Anyway. Thanks.**

**I don't own Teen Wolf. Shock Horror.**

* * *

I must have a superpower for overhearing ridiculously weird conversations or something, because one of the first coherent things I heard at school that morning was:

"So you killed her."

Thankfully, it was followed by "I don't know. I just woke up."

So I'm assuming there was no _actual_ murdering of any female. Or any_one_, for that matter. Hopefully. After I heard that last sentence and I could stop panicking about one of my fellow students being a murder, I continued piling my books for the day into my locker, but the voices just continued to invade my focus.

"I was sweating like crazy and I couldn't breathe," I heard Scott say. "I've never had a dream where I woke up like that before."

"Really? I have. Usually ends a little differently." Gross. I saw Scott and Tweedledee round the corner and almost barrel right in to me as I threw them the most disgusted face I could muster.

Scott smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Amber. Ignore Stiles. He doesn't have a filter." Scott carried on walking, leaving Stilinski behind to gape and fling his arms around in disagreement.

"I have a filter!" he exclaimed.

"That's good to know, Stilinski. Maybe y'all should take it out for a test drive every once in a while." He rolled his eyes at me, nodding sarcastically. "You never know, the lack of useless background noise might grab the attention of a certain redhead." I cocked an eyebrow and smiled at Stilinski's glare, deciding this was a good way to start the day. I should definitely try it more often.

Scott jumped in then before Dumber could retort, and dragged him along on their previous path by the arm. "A) I meant I'd never had a dream that felt that real, and b) never give me that much detail about you in bed again."

Amen.

* * *

"Do you know what happened?" Allison asked me, as we passed more students talking about the gruesome scene just outside the school. The whole of the back of the bus was painted with blood, the door torn off its hinges like something out of a bad horror movie. With giants. Or ogres. Yeah, that bad.

"Not a clue. I've only heard rumours, and half of those are saying there's a new serial killer on the loose. Especially after that girl they found in the woods." _Half a girl. Or half a wolf. No, it was definitely a girl. A full girl. That I mistook for a wolf. That Scott and Stiles also mistook for a wolf. Oh my god, I think I'm going crazy._

"Well…" Allison hesitated, looking around the students before looking back to me and muttering quietly. "You've lived here longer than me; do you think could there be any truth to that?"

"A serial killer? In Beacon Hills?" I scoffed, shaking my head. "Not a chance."

Allison smiled, breathing out shortly in a quiet laugh, and nodded, before coming to a complete stop in 0.2 seconds and dropping all the books in her arms to the floor. She huffed before she realised who'd she'd literally run into. The huff turned into a giggle.

"You scared the hell outta me," she said to Scott, giggling. Scott, on the other hand, wasn't giggling. But he did look like he'd just seen the face of an angel or something. Which was clichéd and gross, and my cue to leave.

I didn't feel bad leaving the two of them to pick up her books, because they were both so caught up in each other's eyes (_gag_) that neither of them even realised I was there, let alone that I'd left.

"Oh, my lord. Jackson, what did you do?!"

His locker door reminded me a little of the door on the bus outside. A complete mess.

"Nothing!" He shouted. His hands dropped from trying to push the metal back into place and hit his thighs in defeat. "It was like this when I got here." I stepped forward as he started shoving at the metal again, out of anger rather than an attempt to fix it. There was no chance of that happening. He looked up at me mournfully, before his eyes jumped to something behind my shoulder. I turned to see Scott, blankly staring at Jackson and his distorted locker door. "What're you looking at, asswipe?" Jackson went back to pulling and pushing with his locker, but I saw Scott smirk almost… guiltily, but not quite guilty way as he turned and left. It was the kind of face you'd see on a person who'd done something like, oh, I don't know, mangled a person's locker, perhaps. But there was no way a teenage boy would be able to pull off something like that.

Right?

Not unless he was Edward Cullen. Or Jacob. Or something.

Or something…

* * *

I saw Jackson, for the fourteenth time in the past ten minutes or so, lean across our desk and check my answers.

"Having a little trouble there, Sonny?"

His shoulders dropped as he raised an eyebrow at me. Those eyebrows have taught me so much. "Are you ever going to stop calling me that? It was fine when we were five, but it's starting to get a little old, now."

"Tell you what," I bargained, trying to drown out the sound of the conversation between Thelma and Louise – something about a rabbit, I think – going on behind us. "I'll stop calling you Sonny the day you start studying and doing your own work."

I heard him mumble under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like "well that's never gonna happen", but he went back to his worksheet in front of him. For all of seven seconds, that is, frowning the entire time, before his eyes swung up to meet mine, pout in place. I sighed.

"Fine." Jackson's face lit up with victory, before I held up a finger. "For now. But we're starting study sessions again." Jackson's face fell, and he opened his mouth – to whine, probably – as Mr Harris' dull, migraine-inducing voice came from the front of the class.

"Mr Stilinski," he started. The boy in question lifted his head to show he was listening (hey, there's a first time for everything), and Mr Harris put his hands on his hips with a nasty grin on his face. "If that's your idea of a hushed whisper, you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while. Stiles huffed like he wanted to quip back, but Harris carried on before he could. "I think you and Mr McCall would benefit from a little distance, yes?"

"No," Stiles shot back. Harris ignored him and gestured for them to move to different desks, and Scott sat down at the desk in front of us. Poor Danny was stuck next to testicle right.

"Let me know if the separation anxiety gets to be too much," Harris droned. I heard Stilinski laugh sarcastically, and I couldn't help but agree with the sentiment. Sometimes I can imagine Harris sat at home, alone, thinking of witty one-liners to use on his students. That and the best ways to torture them. Or maybe they're one and the same…

Scott looked over his shoulder once he was settled, only to find Jackson glaring at him. Once Scott was looking forward again, a slightly (read: terribly) frightened look on his face, I nudged Jackson's arm, giving him my best 'disappointed parent' look. He just rolled his eyes and carried on with his work. Until he realised he couldn't do it. Then the pleading pout came back out.

Huh. That rhymed.

"Hey, I think they found something!" The girl Scott was sat next to at the desk at the front jumped up from her seat, gesturing towards the window, overlooking the parking lot. Harris didn't even say anything for a moment as everyone got up from their seats and ran to the windows, and we all stood and watched as a couple of paramedics wheeled out someone on a gurney towards the waiting ambulance.

My stomach turned as I watched, the body not moving.

"That's not a rabbit," I heard Scott say from somewhere close behind me, and, given enough time, I would've looked into that weird little sentence a tad more, but I was a bit distracted by the now screaming body that shot upright on the gurney.

From the outside, the entire class screaming and jumping back in unison probably would've looked a little funny, but in that moment my breath caught in my throat and got stuck there for a few seconds. I felt Jackson put his hands on my waist and steer me through Scott and Stiles back to my seat, sitting me down and letting me catch my breath.

He kept a close eye on me as everyone returned to their seats, buzzing about the turn of events, but I'm sure we both heard Scott and Stiles talking about how it's 'good' because the guy wasn't actually dead, if his dramatic exit was anything to go by.

Harris soon started calling for everyone to settle back down – not that he had much chance of that wish coming true – but even in my semi-breathless state I noticed Scott's fear-stricken face, and the actual hushed whispering (seems they'd learnt their lesson) between him and Stiles. Sure, the not-so-dead body was pretty terrifying for a second, but Stiles was right, the guy wasn't dead. There was no reason to be looking so petrified and anxious about. Right?

* * *

"Do we have to?" I moaned. I was about ten seconds away from stomping my feet like a three year old.

"Amber, how many times do I have to tell you?" Lydia didn't even look up from where she was surveying the food choices as she spoke to me. "Sometimes, when we're asked to do something that we're not completely fond of, we have to suck it or suck it up."

The lunch lady did _not_ look impressed. Jackson, however, did. "Okay, a) that's gross, Lyds, I do _not_ want to hear anything about you and Jackson in that context again. Ever. And b) but why do we have to do that?"

"It's just the way of life, Am."

"I don't like the way of life." Now I actually _was_ stomping my feet like a three year old. "I like our table. Our table is the _best_ table. It's the furthest away from the bins, and it's far enough away from both the doors _and_ the lunch line, without sacrificing the view through the windows."

"I know all of that, Amber; that's why we picked it."

"So why do we have to change where we eat?"

"It's just for today." Lydia flicked her hair over her shoulder and picked up her tray, leading our way back to the tables. I stepped up to walk beside her, and Jackson and Danny followed closely behind. "Don't think of it as a chore. Think of it as a favour." She smiled brightly, stopping just before we made it to the _dreaded _table. She picked her head up, shaking her hair back and straightening to her full height. She looked like she was preparing to walk to her death. "We're doing this for Allison," she said quietly, more to herself than to me. And with that, she sat down beside Scott, leaving the rest of us to follow.

Jackson looked about as happy with the arrangements as I did. Danny just rolled his eyes at our reluctant faces and stepped around us, making his way to the seat opposite Lydia and sitting down. I couldn't see Scott's face from where we were stood, but if it was anything like Stilinski's, it was comical.

I made my way towards the seat between Lydia and where Danny was putting his tray, but Jackson put his hand on my arm to stop me.

"I think you'll find the man of the house gets to sit at the head of the table."

"I think you'll find you can shove that chauvinistic tradition up your ass."

"But-"

"Do _not_ make me sit next to Stilinski."

Jackson frowned. "So sit next to Allison." At just that moment, someone sat down just two seats up from Allison. And I recognised the back of that head.

"Oh, _lord_, do not make me sit next to Jeffries. Last time I sat next to him, he started talking to me about how best to dissect a _human brain_."

"No one is going to make you sit next to Jeffries. There's 'science nerd' and then there's 'serial killer', and I honestly couldn't tell you which category he'd fit into better." Jackson smiled to himself. "So, I guess you'll just have to sit next to Stilinski." He turned to walk towards the table, just as one of the other lacrosse players – a regular at our old, sorely missed, table – sat down in the coveted seat.

That left only the two remaining seats. And the one of them was barricaded in on the other side by Jeepers-Creepers-Jeffries.

Even Stilinski was a better lunch neighbour than _that_ guy.

It was my turn to smile. "That seat next to Stilinski ain't looking so bad now, is it?" He glared at me as I gambolled away, catching the welcoming-smile-turned-surprised-glare-turned-aggressive-eyeroll I got from my new lunch buddy as I sat down. He then turned to smile at Danny, sat on his other side, but Danny just stared back for a few seconds before rolling his eyes and sending me a look that screamed 'eat like you've never eaten before and get me the hell outta here'.

That was something I could do.

"Get up." So, turns out, Jackson _really_ wasn't up for eating beside Jeffries, and decided to bully his way into the seat he had originally wanted. Typical.

"How come you never ask Danny to get up?"

"Because I don't stare at his girlfriend's coin-slot," Danny supplied. Lydia smiled at Danny's comment as the guy got up.

"Ahh, the wonderful, not at all demeaning nicknames men have for parts of the female body."

Jackson smirked as he took his seat. "I've got a couple more for you. How about c-"

"So!" Danny cut in as I gaped at what I just _knew_ Jackson was about to say. Thank the lord for Danny. "I heard they're saying it's some kind of animal attack. Probably a cougar?" he suggested, looking around the table. Could nobody talk of anything else today?

"I heard mountain lion," Jackson answered, leaning back in his seat. _But a cougar-_

"A cougar is a mountain lion," Lydia corrected, before looking up at me, eyes only slightly wider than normal. I widened mine back in wait as Jackson raised an eyebrow at her response. "Isn't it?" she asked, tilting her head to one side and frowning. I mouthed a 'good save' at her, and she smiled ever so slightly back.

"Who cares?" Jackson snapped. "The guy's probably some homeless tweaker who's gonna die anyway."

"Actually," Stiles added, holding his phone out for the whole table to see as it played a video, "I just found out who it is. Check it out." Much to my dismay, to be able to see the screen, I had to get up-close-and-personal with Stilinski. From the huff I heard as I did so, I think the feeling of 'ew, get off me' was pretty mutual.

"… The Sheriff's department won't speculate on details of the incident, but confirmed the victim, Garrison Myers, did survive the attack." With the name came a face, this one not covered in blood and letting out a blood-curdling scream. I sat back as soon as I saw the photo, so I couldn't see the screen, but I continued to listen to the report. "Myers was taken to a local hospital where he remains in critical condition."

"I know this guy," Scott stuttered, looking up at his friend across the table. Jackson sent me a questioning look, just a lowering of the eyebrows and a slight shift in head position, but it was enough for me to understand that he was asking if I was okay. He knew I didn't deal well with situations like this, anything with blood or death, and after what we all saw in Chemistry, he was probably worried that I was going to freak out or something. I nodded back, my lips tilting into something resembling a smile, and went back to the conversation happening between us. "… He was the driver." The table fell silent for a moment, before Lydia decided enough was enough

"Can we talk about something slightly more _fun_, please?" she asked, twirling her fork in her hand. "Like… oh." She turned to Allison, who quickly took her fork out of her mouth. "Where are we going tomorrow night?" Allison continued to chew her food, struggling to swallow it quick enough to speak. "You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?" Scott's face was just filled with confusion. Poor boy.

"Um…" Allison finally managed to finish swallowing her food, and looked apologetically at Scott. "We were thinking of what we were gonna do."

"Well, I am not sitting at home again watching lacrosse videos," Lydia insisted. "So if the six of us _are _hanging out, we are doing something fun."

"Six?" I asked, a little taken aback.

"Hanging out?" Scott asked, as Stilinski ran a hand down his face. "Like, the six of us?"

"Six?" I repeated, since no one was listening to me.

"Sure, Amber, we not just going to leave you out," Lydia said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"But-"

"And you should definitely bring a date." Jackson's face lit up at Lydia's suggestion.

"Ah, Stilinski… what're you doing tomorrow night?"

I think one of the few things Stilinski and I will agree on is how hard the both of us put a stop to that one.

"No chance."

"Not in hell."

"Do you want to hang out, like, us and them?" Scott asked Allison under the loud objections given off by Stilinski and I.

"Yeah," Allison responded, sounding a little unsure. "I guess. It sounds fun."

"You know what else sounds fun?" Jackson asked, picking his fork up from his tray. "Stabbing myself in the face with this fork."

"You know what, that actually _does_ sound fun. Here," I stood up, my seat scraping against the floor as I picked up my own fork. "Let me help." Lydia quickly snatched the fork from Jackson and sent me the type of look that would make any man cower. She combined that with a down-pointed finger and a raised eyebrow, and I pursed my lips as I sat back down again, smoothing my dress under me as gracefully as I could. Jackson just smirked.

"Oh, how about bowling? You love to bowl." The second I saw Scott's eyes widen at the word 'bowling' and Stiles' barely repressed arm flailing, I knew this was going to be fun.

"Yeah, with actual competition," Jackson scoffed.

"How do you know we're not 'actual competition'," Allison challenged. Cue more eye conversations between the wonder twins. "You can bowl, right?" she asked Scott.

"… Sort of," Scott replied.

"Is it… is it 'sort of', or yes?" Jackson demanded, leaning forward on the table in an intimidation manner. I put my thumbnail in my mouth to focus on something other than how badly I wanted to laugh right now.

"Yes," Scott shot back, mirroring Jackson's pose. Allison looked at me, raising both her eyebrows and looking excited, before turning back to Scott as he said, "In fact, I'm a great bowler."

I leant in closer to Stilinski, who was shaking his head to himself. "He's a terrible bowler, ain't he?" I whispered.

He didn't respond, like any good best friend. But the way his head fell forward was enough of an answer for me.

* * *

"Am I attractive to gay guys?" Stilinski called down the hall. "You didn't answer my question…"

A number of heads turned from where people were clearing out their books for the day, but my favourite was Danny's. He turned from where he was leaning on one of the lockers next to mine to look Stilinski up and down, considering for a moment, before snorting and turning back to me.

"McCall's a terrible bowler, isn't he?"

* * *

After the last…incident, let's call it, at the preserve, I decided that running the same track might not have been the best idea. I didn't really want to stumble across another dead body that decided to switch between species, or whatever the hell happened.

But I'm also an idiot.

Aside from in the main part of town, the roads of Beacon Hills are a little short on sidewalks. Since I wasn't really in the mood to get run down by a car, I figured I'd run along the edge of the woods, just off the road, but close enough to it to know where I was going and whatever. And that's fine and all when you're running along, paying enough attention to not veer away from the road and otherwise letting your mind stray, but when you start seeing things out of the corner of your eye, where your going is a little less important than just getting the hell away from wherever it is you are.

And I swear, someone was following me.

Not even following behind me, hiding between trees when I looked over my shoulder or anything. It was like something was running along beside me. Whenever I would catch the movement, I'd look over to my left, towards the road, but there was no one there. The light was pretty poor, the moon barely managing to get through the trees, but it was enough that, surely, I would have been able to see if someone was there. And then as soon as I shrugged and started running again, something was echoing my footsteps, running alongside me. So I ran faster, frantically, running through the trees and trying to shake off whatever or whoever it was. Maybe it was just a rabbit or something, but the pounding of my heart in my chest wasn't entirely from the exercise.

Long story short, I got lost.

The only thing on my mind while I was running at that point was to get away from the noises. The soft thuds of the footsteps, the scratching like claws on stone. I was so freaked out I didn't even notice the road getting smaller and smaller, further and further away. I didn't notice when the trees grew closer together, blocking out the moon almost entirely. My eyes had adjusted by that point, or it might have just been the fear, but all I know it the second I stumbled out of the bushes and onto a road, I was blinded by the streetlights.

I blinked, trying to get rid of the several red spots dotting my eyesight, until eventually they converged into just two red spots, coming out from through the trees. I swear, they were getting bigger, almost as though they were moving towards me, and I backed up out of instinct before whipping around to make a run for it. Instead, I bumped into something warm and solid directly in front of me, hands coming up to wrap around my upper arms as I startled.

Okay, so yeah; I screamed.

It was cut off, though, by Stilinski's hand coming up to cover my mouth.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He asked, voice harsh. Or maybe it just seemed that way because I was still trembling a little. Either way, I didn't appreciate the tone, and I slapped at his arm for him to remove his hand from my face.

"I was out running, in case y'all can't tell by my attire!" I snapped back, gesturing to my running shorts and sneakers. I huffed, trying to calm my breathing – and my shaking – as Stilinski looked around behind me, his brow furrowed with something that looked a lot like… worry. "What?" I asked, hands on my hips and my heart still pounding.

"You just… you looked a little… scared, I guess," Stilinski said slowly, looking between my face and the trees behind me. "Are you okay?"

Hmm, let's see… Do I tell the guy who hates my guts and is continuously looking for a reason to bring me down a peg or two that I'm going crazy, and hearing and seeing things that aren't actually there?

The answer to that would be a resounding 'no'. So I nodded instead.

"Uh huh. I'm fine. You just startled me, that's all." I smiled, but he didn't look convinced, so I decided to change the topic. Like why I had stumbled onto him just outside school grounds so late at night. "So what are _you_ doing out here?" His mouth dropped open, and it kept forming shapes, like he was trying to say something, but nothing would come out. I raised an eyebrow. "Up to something you shouldn't be, then?"

"Wha- no. No! Why would you think that? There's nothing out of the ordinary going on here."

"So why are you rambling?"

He made that face then. The one he always makes when Jackson or I pass him in the hallway and say something witty, where his nose scrunches up and he sneers a little bit. It's basically his default face whenever I'm around.

"I'm not rambling," he started, much calmer this time. "I just have too many thoughts in my head, and they're all coming out at once."

"Sure thing, Stilinski. So where's Scott?" I asked as he shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"He's on the bus." His eyes widened as he realised his mishap. "Wait. Crap."

"On the bus? As in," I pointed towards the gates that led onto the school parking lot, "the school bus that someone was almost _killed_ in? The school bus that's currently a _crime scene_?"

"No?"

"Stilinski, you idiot, he's gonna get his fingerprints all over that thing!"

"They've already dusted for fingerprints."

"They might do it again."

"They won't."

"They might!"

"Th-"

"Just get him the hell back over here." His mouth opened slightly and he shrugged a little, like was going to argue with me. "Now!" I shouted, shoving him backwards.

"Alright, okay, jeez." Stilinski moved back towards the gate, but we both stopped when we saw the sweeping light a little further on. A flashlight. The kind a school security guard might have.

"Shit." Stilinski murmured. He quickly swung open the door to his Jeep, holding down a hand on the horn, and gestured for me to get in."

"What?"

"Just get in, I'm not gonna leave you behind to get caught by security."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "That's actually really ni-"

"Just get in already!"

"And, there's the Stilinski I know and don't love," I muttered as I jumped into the back. Stilinski quickly got in after be, hand still on the horn as he started the engine. He let go once Scott had leapt over the fence and started fidgeting instead, as if it would help Scott run faster. Scott jumped in, Stilinski only just waited for Scott to slam the door shut after him before reversing.

"Go, go, go!" Scott shouted at him, looking back – to look through the rear window, I assume – and startled when he saw me. I smiled brightly.

"Hi, Scott. Did y'all have fun contaminating a crime scene and possibly impeding an ongoing investigation?" He gaped, much like Stilinski had many times over the past three minutes, before turning back to his apologetic friend, his face turning stormy.

"You told her?!"

"It slipped out, I'm sorry!" Stilinski shrugged, smiling guiltily. "Did it… you know…"

"Yeah, yeah, it did."

"Okay, I don't care that y'all are being really weird and cryptic right now. What I do care about is how ridiculously stupid that was, McCall!"

"I know, but I had to!" Scott looked at me, puppy eyes pleading, before turning back to Stilinski with a blissed out smile on his face. "But I didn't do anything."

"You know what that means…"

"I can go out with Allison."

"Well… I was gonna say that you're not gonna kill me, but…"

"Oh, yeah. That too."

Now, under normal circumstances, I would have questioned that conversation. Or at least been a little creeped out. But I was too busy staring into the rear-view mirror, looking back out onto the road behind us and being creeped out.

The red dots were back.

* * *

"Hey, Ally. What's up?"

"I need a favour. And it might cost you."

"It's Lydia, ain't it?" I saw Danny scoff and roll his eyes from across the table in the diner we were sat in. I went to take a sip of my raspberry milkshake, but Danny leant over and pulled it towards him, drinking through the straw.

"She's vetoing all my outfits. I really don't have that many left. At this rate, I'll be going naked."

"That would definitely catch Scott's attention," I heard Lydia purr from over the phone. Danny nodded his approval of my drink, and I quickly snatched it back, pointing a chastising finger at him jokingly.

"Ignore her. What have you got that Lydia _hasn't_ objected to?"

"Uh… one top. That's it?" I rolled my eyes at Lydia's harsh appraisal of Allison's wardrobe.

"Yes, Allison. Your taste is dwindling by the second. Amber, we need to go shopping. Pronto." I snorted, shaking my head at the scenario I was imagining. "But you should definitely wear this."

"What is it?"

"It's black, and sparkly, and very cute," Lydia responded. "I'm putting you on speaker." I heard the dull thud of the phone being put down. "So what're you doing tonight, since you bailed on our date?"

"Lyds, I ain't going to tag along and be a fifth wheel on your group date night."

"You could've asked Stiles to come with you." Allison suggested. Gosh, that girl was just so sweet, you could hear the innocence in her voice, I swear.

"That would've been worse than being a fifth wheel. Much, _much_ worse."

"Why don't the two of you get on?" Allison asked, hesitant. "Did something happen between the two of you, or…"

"No, they just hated each other on sight." Lydia supplied, sighing at the conversation. "She takes after Jackson like that."

"I'm gonna pretend that was a compliment."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night. So, what _are _you doing tonight? You're not sitting home alone, are you?"

"No, Lydia. I'm out with Danny. We're having milkshakes."

"You're spying, aren't you?" _Busted_.

"What… I don't… I am insulted, Lydia."

"She's totally spying," Lydia remarked, totally sure of herself and sounding not at all surprised.

Allison's giggling gasp sounded scandalised. "Spying on who?"

"Her brother."

"Lydia!" I hissed.

"I'm not the one in the wrong here," Lydia responded.

"I ain't in the wrong! It's his first date, I'm just keeping an eye on him!"

"You're spying."

"I'm emotionally invested in his happiness and wellbeing."

"You're still spying," Lydia sang.

"Dad…" Allison said, her tone almost questioning. "Hello."

"Right. I… I'm sorry, I completely forgot to knock."

"Hey, Mr Argent." I would've repeated Lydia's sentiment, but Allison continued speaking.

"Dad, you need something?"

"I wanted to tell you that you'll be staying in tonight." _Eesh._

"What? I'm going out with my friends tonight."

"Not while some animal is out there attacking people." _Great, we're back to that fun topic_.

"Dad… Dad, I… I'm."

"Hey, hey, hey," he interrupted. "It's out of my hands. There's a curfew; no one's allowed out by nine thirty pm." There was a pause, where I'm sure Allison was thinking of any way to convince her dad. "Hey. No more arguing."

I heard Allison let out a long, deflated sigh as he left, and Lydia hummed.

"Someone's daddy's little girl. And it's not Amber this time."

"Sometimes. But not tonight. Here, hold Amber."

"I feel so loved.," I quipped sarcastically.

"What are you doing?" Lydia asked, sounding totally confused, before… "Oh, my god."

"What? What happened?"

"She just… she just flipped out of a window," Lydia whispered back through the phone.

I heard the faint sound of Allison's giggle. "Eight years gymnastics."

"Oh, my lord. Lydia, _make_ her join the team. Coach is gonna flip."

"You coming?" Allison asked Lydia.

"I'll take the stairs," came her uncertain reply. I heard the sound of a window being pulled shut, and then Lydia came back on the line. "That girl just keeps surprising me. You should have seen it, you would've _applauded_ that flip."

"The team, Lyds, make her join the team. I will literally do anything." Danny quirked an eyebrow, and I shook my head at the dirty suggestion his face was making.

"Mmhmm. The two of you can talk gymnastics later, but I'm hanging up now, because I have to go and say goodbye to Mr Argent."

"Sure thing. Hey, Lyds?" She hummed. "No flirting with Allison's dad."

"I don't know what you're talking about… Love you."

I shook my head as I put my phone back down on the table, stealing a couple of fries from the basket between us as Danny chuckled quietly.

"Lydia Martin will be the death of all of us, I'm telling you now." I giggled, nodding my head in agreement, before I thought of something I had forgotten to tell Danny. "So, how bad _is_ McCall, exactly?"

I shook my head. "All I know is he's bad enough to make Stilinski cringe at the thought of Scott bowling."

"Damn, I kinda wish we'd gone now," he laughed, sitting back in his seat. He looked at me, eyes narrowed, like he was judging me for something. It made me a little self-conscious, if I'm honest, and I started to squirm in my seat.

"What?" I asked, fed up of waiting for him to say something.

"You've been calling him Scott lately. Up until now, I was beginning to think you didn't even know what his name was, but now you're on a first-name-basis with him?"

"There ain't anything wrong with that."

"I'm not saying there is, at all. I'm not friends with the guy, but he seems nice enough, and it's nice to see you making friends that Jackson wouldn't approve of."

I giggled at the thought. "Sometimes I picture Jackson's face if he were to catch me talking to Scott, and it makes my day."

* * *

**Sonny – ****_You were right. McCall's bowling 'skills' are a total joke!_**

I snorted at the message from Jackson, before throwing my phone on the passenger seat and getting out so I could fill up my car. After a while of Danny and I trying to hide in one of the booths at the back, Josh had, somehow, caught us. Danny got the brunt of it, blaming me for the disappointed head tilt he received from Josh and how bad it made him feel. Apparently, Danny will not be coming on another spying expedition with me ever again.

Ha! We'll see about that.

But anyway, once Josh had seen us and made sure we knew how angry he was, I offered to make it up to him with pancakes for breakfast tomorrow, with a tub of ice cream thrown in now to (literally) sweeten the deal. So Danny and I had left immediately, apologising to both Josh and Melanie as we passed, and he had dropped me back at the gas station parking lot where I had left my car; Josh totally would've recognised my car at the diner, and if he'd seen Danny picking me up, he would've recognised his too, so Danny just picked me up from here.

Once I had filled up the car, I grabbed my phone and purse from the car and made my way to the brightly-lit store. Considering it was a gas station, the place had a nice selection of ice cream, and I picked up a couple of tubs for Josh and I, and then went to grab some gum from the other side of the store. This side was closer to the windows, and through the paper stuck up on them I made out a sleek, black car parked on the other side of the pumps to mine, furthest away from the store. That wasn't what caught my attention, however. It was the two SUVs that had come to stop on either end of the black car. I struggled to make out the face of the black car's owner, as he was standing with his back to me, and the other guys were all blocked from my view by the pumps.

I looked down at my phone when I heard the text tone, seeing another message from Jackson, and when I looked back up, Derek Hale was looking over his shoulder, directly at me, like he knew exactly where I was despite all the paper blocking most of the view of inside the store.

Then Mr Argent walked out from behind the pumps, and into the light. _What was he doing talking to _Derek Hale_, the guy that was arrested (and let off, as I'd found out from Scott after the lacrosse game last week, but still) for murdering his sister(also something I learnt from Scott)?_

He started rubbing at the hood of Derek's car, mouth moving like he was speaking to him, and then…washing the front window? What, was Allison's dad trying to earn a little pocket money on the side by washing cars, or something? I looked behind me, to the guy behind the register, but he wasn't paying any attention to what was happening, despite the many screens behind him showing the feed from the security cameras. It appears the guy was more interested in… _Fifty Shades of Grey_. Really? I mean, come on, in _public_? Jeez. I turned my attention back to the activities going on outside, to see that Derek hadn't moved from when he'd turned back to Mr Argent after staring through the covered windows at me.

For a moment, I thought the intimidating vibe I got from Mr Argent's actions was just a figment of my overactive imagination. For all I know, he was just doing a kind gesture by washing the window. That thought flew out of the window, however, when I saw Derek's mouth move, speaking to Mr Argent, and he said something back with a smirk, only for one of Mr Argents… friends, I guess, came forward and smashed in one of the car's windows.

My mouth dropped open, my hand over my heart, as I watched Mr Argent smile again, before getting in his SUV with what I'm sure was some witty comment or another, leaving Derek behind with a car full of glass.

Once I realised the fun (I use that word sarcastically, in case you didn't get it) was over, I quickly paid for the gas, ice cream and gum, trying to hurry the guy along – I swear, his eyes just screamed 'I'm high' – and almost ran outside, making it to my car as Derek was sweeping the glass out of his car with one of the brushes left by the pumps.

Here's a question for future reference: what's the best way to approach a possible murder who was possibly just threatened and had his property vandalised without startling him and possibly becoming his next victim?

Apparently, the best I could come up with was: 'hi'. _Really, Amber? That's all you've got?_

Hey, my aim was to not creep up on him and scare him or anything, and it seemed to work. He just raised his eyes from the car to mine, one of those impressive eyebrows crawling up his head in question.

"I, uh… I saw what happened. Out here. With the car."

"I know." There is _definitely _something creepy about this guy. There was no inflection in his voice, and the only movement in his whole body when he said those two, measly words was situated around his mouth. His eyebrow stayed exactly where it was.

"Oh. Okay. I just… wanted to make sure y'all were alright?" At that, the eyebrow came down again, only to keep going until they were both furrowed over his eyes.

"You were there when I got arrested."

"Well-"

"You helped those two idiots to dig up my sisters body-"

"Mm, not really."

"-and then called the cops on me."

"I actually did none of those things, but that ain't the point. You didn't deserve to have your window smashed in, and I was just checking y'all were okay. Apparently, though, basic human kindness is lost on y'all, so I'm just gonna get in my car and leave y'all to brood with those eyebrows all by yourself." I made to get in my car, but when he took a few steps towards me, I took one back, stepping to the side so the hood of my car was between us.

"How much do you know?"

"Know about what?" I asked, frowning. _About his sister? About Mr Argent?_

Instead of answering my question, Derek smirked, barely a tilt of his lips, and walked back around to the driver's side of his car. He opened the door, but before he got in he frowned, then turned back to me. "You should get home. It's too dangerous to be out here alone in the dark."

And with that parting remark, he left.

My phone buzzed again in my hand, signalling another message from Jackson. By the time I looked back up, the car was already rumbling and making its way back to the road. I turned my attention back to my phone, reading the messages I had gotten from Jackson as I put my Bluetooth in.

**Sonny – ****_Can a person cheat at bowling?_**

**Sonny – ****_There is *definitely* something weird going on with McCall._**

I frowned, wondering what those messages meant, and called Jackson. He picked up after the first ring.

"I thought you said McCall was a terrible bowler?" he spat down the phone as I started my car.

"According to my sources – 'my sources' being his best friend's body language and my body-language-reading expertise – he is. Why?" I pulled away from the pump, pulling onto the road in the opposite direction Derek Hale had gone.

"Because he's not!"

"Um…" _Are there _more_ red spots in my rear-view mirror?_

"He was… good! He was actually good at it, Amber!"

"You text me earlier saying he was a joke."

"Yeah, he was. And then, out of nowhere, he became amazing!"

I swear, those spots were getting bigger. "Did anything happen between those times that might have given him a bit of a push?"

"Allison gave him some words of encouragement," I heard Lydia answer. I must have been on speaker. "And, boy, did they work."

"Yeah, okay, we know you appreciate the newly improved McCall, alright? I got the picture."

"Lydia, what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!"

"You were totally flirting with him."

"I was not!"

_They're not getting bigger. _Jackson scoffed. "Please, I know your flirting face. You were flirting." _They're not getting bigger..._

_They're getting closer._

* * *

**A/N: I get sad Ally A feels writing her :(**

**I am ****_not_**** looking forward to missing her on this season because she'd had enough of Beacon Hills and left for France...**

**Don't forget to check out my Polyvore and Tumblr (the links are on my profile), and I might start making playlists for stories/chapters, and putting them on 8tracks, so keep an eye out for that too.**

**That's all, folks!**


	4. Today was a Whole Other Kettle of Fish

**A/N: So, my usual is pretty much an episode per chapter, give or take a scene or two. However, you lucky people get two episodes in this chapter! ****_Magic Bullet_**** didn't take up enough words, so I expanded a little. This might happen from time to time, or one episode might span over a few chapters, it all really depends on how much Amber gets up to during the episode drama and whatever.**

**Also, there will be two different types of text conversations from now on, and you'll see both in this chapter. One is the odd text, like from Jackson in the last chapter, where Amber receives one message from someone. The other is when there is a full conversation taking place, and it looks a little more like my failed attempt at a texting conversation, and there isn't any other dialogue or anything other than the texts going on in that scene.**

**Okay. I think that's all. Oh, yeah…**

**I don't own Teen Wolf. Shock Horror.**

* * *

"You know I have my own car, right?" I asked Jackson, buckling myself into his Porsche as he rolled his eyes at me. "I can drive myself places."

"I know, but the last time you drove yourself anywhere alone, you thought you saw something following you."

"Something was following me!" Jackson scoffed as he started the car and pulled out of the Beacon's Ballads parking lot, driving me home after my Saturday shift.

"Sure thing, Wilson. Sure it wasn't the fairies again?" Jackson quipped, snorting at his own joke.

"Shut up, Sonny. I'm serious, something followed my car the entire way home. And almost every night when I've gone out for a run, I swear…"

"Amber, nothing is following you," Jackson assured me. "You know how crazy your imagination is-"

"No, it ain't just that, okay? I heard something, and I swear, there were these eyes… If I didn't know any better," I trailed off, unsure if I should even voice the thought aloud. "…I'd say it was a wolf." Jackson turned to me, eyes wide at my finishing statement. He turned back, quickly pulling over to the side of the road before twisting around in his seat to face me, his right arm resting over the back of his seat.

"There are no wolves in California, Amber." I nodded, closing my eyes and breathing deeply.

"I know."

"You're not seeing a wolf."

"I _know_."

"It's probably just a cougar or something. In which case, you should probably stop running at night, because of all the animal attacks lately." I nodded again, leaning forward until my forehead hit his shoulder, and Jackson put both of his arms around me. "It's not going to happen again. You're safe here."

"We thought we were safe there."

"Sure, but you didn't have me there." I scoffed. "Nothing's going to happen to you so long as I'm around, okay?"

* * *

**Ally Argent**

**_Sorry, I totally fell asleep in the middle of our conversation._**

**_I know Jackson's your best friend, and I'm sure he's as nice as you say some of the time, but he was a bit of an ass on our group date._**

**_God, I hate group dates._**

_Group dates are the WORST._

_Jackson is pretty much always an ass. You'll see what I mean one day. _

_Why are you texting back at 2am anyway?_

**_OMG, I didn't mean to wake you up. I'm so sorry._**

_No, I was up awake anyway. I heard some weird noises outside._

_Living right on the preserve SUCKS._

_Is everything okay over there, or is this 2am thing a usual occurrence for you?_

**_No, thank god. I have to get, like, 10 hours every night to function like a normal person._**

**_My dad was on his way out, and he woke me up._**

_Ohhh, is your daddy out on a booty call?_

**_Have you met my mom?_**

**_He wouldn't come back alive from that booty call._**

**_Kate got a flat tyre, my dad had to pick her up._**

_OMG, excited!_

_When do I get to meet the famous aunt Kate?_

**_She's going to absolutely love you!_**

**_Whenever you want to, I can't wait for you guys to meet!_**

**_Except for tomorrow. Scott's coming over tomorrow to study._**

_To study, or to 'study'?_

**_… What's the difference?_**

_Oh, bless your heart._

**_Why do I feel that was less sweet than it sounded?_**

* * *

"Where's Scott McCall."

At the not-so-polite question, I turned from my lean against the lockers beside Jacksons to come face to face with sickly Derek Hale. I ain't ashamed to say I took a step back, away from the once-accused-murderer and also all around rude person and into Jackson. He stepped away from his locker, allowing me to take another step back, behind him, and he slammed his locker shut, raising an eyebrow at Derek.

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because I asked you politely."

I snorted. "If that's your idea of 'politely', I really don't want to see 'rude and aggressive'."

Derek ignored me, not even sparing a glance in my direction, instead focusing harshly on Jackson. "I only do that once."

Jackson huffed out a little breath of laughter. "Okay tough guy. How about I help you find him if you tell me what you're selling him?" Jackson suggested, crossing his arms across his chest. "What is it? Is it, uh, Dianabol? Hmm? HGH?"

"Steroids."

"No, girl scout cookies. What the hell do you think I'm talking about? Oh, and uh, by the way, whatever it is your selling, I'd probably stop sampling the merchandise. You look wrecked."

Derek looked down to the floor, onto which some dark liquid was slowly dripping. _Is that blood?_ "I'll find him myself."

"No, we're not done here." Jackson reached out to grab at Derek's jacket, which I instantly knew was a bad idea.

"No, Jackson, don't-"

My sentence was cut off by a loud crash as Derek shoved Jackson face first into the lockers. My mouth dropped open for a second as my heart started to pound, before I felt the rage flare.

"What the _hell_ is your problem?!" I screamed, shoving him back and away from Jackson, who quickly turned around, leaning back against the lockers, one hand on the back of his neck. Derek looked between the two of us, sweat beading on his pale forehead, before hurrying away down the hall. I turned back to Jackson, whose eyes were still on Derek's retreating form, pulling his hand away from his neck to see _blood_.

What the hell had Derek done to him?

* * *

"I'm telling you, Amber, it was really weird," Allison mumbled as we left French, our last period of the day. "Why would they lie?"

"Maybe they didn't. Maybe she called your dad because she had a flat tyre, and then she needed a jumpstart. Or maybe it was the other way around."

"I don't know."

I suddenly felt this strange feeling wash over me, like someone was watching me. I looked over my shoulder, seeing nothing out of the ordinary students milling about as they left for the day. "What reason would they have to lie to you?"

"Urgh, boring conversation." Lydia interrupted, scoffing and flinging her hair over her shoulder as she slowed to a stop on the stairs. "Didn't you say you were seeing Scott tonight?"

"Yeah, we're just studying together."

"Studying?" Lydia asked, eyebrows raised sceptically. Allison frowned, confused. "_Just_ studying?"

"I did tell y'all," I said to Lydia, shrugging. Allison's frowned deeper as she looked between us. Lydia scoffed.

"Studying never ends with _just_ studying. It's like getting into a hot tub…" Lydia shrugged.

"… Someone eventually cops a feel," I finished, looking around me again, the back of my neck tingling.

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm just saying, you know… make sure he covers up." Allison looked confused. "Hello, Snow White; I'm talking about a condom!" _No one was even paying us any mind, save for the few freshmen eyeballing us, and it ain't like that was unexpected._

Allison laughed, surprised. "Are you kidding? After one date?"

"Don't be a total prude; give him a little taste."

"Well, I… I mean, how much is a little taste?"

At Allison's curious but determined-sounding question, I turned to her, completely forgetting about the tingling of my skin, raising one of my eyebrows. "You really like him." It wasn't a question.

"Well," she huffed. "He's just- he's different." Her face took on this new expression, one that I'd seen whenever she looked at the boy in question. It wasn't hard to tell he was the only thing on her mind right now. "When I first moved here, I had a plan; no boyfriends until college. I just move too much. But then I met him, and, it was different. I don't know," she murmured, smiling shyly. "I can't explain it."

"I can; it's your brain flooding with phenylethylamine."

Allison laughed again, frowning at Lydia's explanation. "What?"

"I'll tell you what to do. When's he coming over?"

"Right after school." The bell rang, and I shivered as that feeling of being watched just… dropped away. Like it was never there. Lydia tilted her head to the side, considering how to help Allison, and I saw Jackson round a corner beside Danny, nodding his head to me and slowing his pace as Danny continued towards us.

"And that is my cue to leave," Allison looked back to me, eyebrows raised in question. "I don't need to hear all the gory details of how you're going to seduce McCall," I answered her silent question, grinning. She quickly ducked her head, blushing, and hid her smile behind her hair. "Call me later? Let me know how it goes." Allison smiled as she nodded, and she and Lydia waved goodbye as I caught up to Jackson, patting Danny's stomach in hello as he passed me on his way down the hall. "Have fun with that guy tonight," I called to him, and he turned back to send me one of his trademark cheeky smiles that told me he planned to.

"Did you-"

"No, Sonny, I didn't mention what happened with Derek. To either of them." Jackson nodded, leading the way to my locker. "Did you tell Danny?" Jackson snorted in response.

"What, you mean did I tell him about how some drug dealer shoved my face into a wall of lockers and stabbed me in the back of the neck with something?" He snorted again. When he puts it like that… "No, no I did not. And I don't intend to."

* * *

The rush at the end of the school day when every student tries to get away from the hellhole as quickly as humanly possible is always a struggle for the people involved. There's always some shoving coming through the doors, there's always someone almost getting hit by a vehicle with an overzealous driver, and there's always a queue of cars trying to get out through the gates. It's a sight that everyone who has attended high school is used to saying.

But today was a whole other kettle of fish.

I didn't even really notice it until I heard the honking from the frustrated drivers stuck behind the… baby blue Jeep, I saw as I turned from my car door to the long, unmoving line of cars. _Shocking_, I thought sarcastically, _something is Stilinski's fault. Again._

Only, as I turned to see the car more fully, Stilinski wasn't in it. He was stood in front of it, beside a crouching Scott and… _Derek?_ The guy they (not we, I was not involved in it whatsoever) had gotten arrested for murder? The guy who had literally just assaulted Jackson, right in front of me?

I saw Allison and Jackson get out of their cars, both craning their necks to get a look at what was going on. Jackson looked over to me, holding his hands out to either side as if asking me what the hell was going on. I shrugged, not sure myself, but mouthed _McCall_ to him, to which he rolled his eyes.

Scott and Stilinski managed to drag Derek up by the arms, and threw him into Stilinski's Jeep. I frowned at that, wondering what on Earth was going on between the three of them, as Allison got out of her car and walked over to me.

"What's going on over there?"

"I don't have a clue, but Derek Hale just got into Stilinski's car."

"Derek… as in, that guy they're really _not _friends with?"

"That's the one," I replied, shrugging at her answering frown.

"I'm gonna see what's happening." I nodded, leaving her to approach Scott as the Jeep tore off and he turned to Allison with a startled expression.

"God, those guys are so weird," Jackson complained as he approached.

"Tell me about it. And they were with Derek." Jackson frowned at me.

"Who?"

"The guy that just shoved your head into your locker and impaled the back of your neck?" Jackson's face soured at that, turning back to Allison as Scott kissed her cheek and raced off. Jackson's eyes followed Scott as he ran towards his bike, and when I looked over my shoulder at the boy, he was just turning his head, staring back at us, slowing down his movements as he caught Jackson's intense gaze.

"That was weird."

Jackson and I both turned back to Allison as she stopped in front of us, her eyebrows lowered over her eyes in confusion.

"What was?" I asked her, turning back to Scott to find he wasn't there anymore. He wasn't anywhere, as far as I could tell.

"He said Stiles was giving him a ride. But I didn't think they were friends."

"They ain't," I scoffed. "Trust me."

"I said that, and he just completely changed the topic without really answering me."

"I've told you before," Jackson sighed. "McCall's a freak." I slapped his arm with the back of my hand, but he just rolled his eyes and barrelled on. "I know you're dating him, and that's a really nice bit of charity work right there, but you're going to have to get used to McCall being _weird_."

And with that, he turned on his heel and stormed back to his car, Lydia looking impatient in the passenger seat. Allison glared after him, before her face softened, the anger replaced with confusion and worry.

"Scott's not that weird… is he?" she asked me, rubbing her upper arms through her jacket.

I struggled to find the words for a minute, and her eyes widened in defeat. "It's only been of late. Maybe he just ain't used to all this attention," I suggested desperately. "I mean, he's suddenly great at lacrosse, he's sitting with the captain and the queen bee, he's dating you…" she smiled a little, and I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "He's probably adjusting. Give him some time." She nodded, a grateful smile on her lips. "And ignore Jackson. He's adjusting too."

* * *

**Ally Argent**

**_Omg._**

**_That was worse than the group date._**

_Your 'study' date with Scott?_

_What happened?_

_Was he a total dick?_

_Did he pressure you into anything?_

_Do I need to get Jackson and Danny to beat him up? Because they will._

**_No, it was nothing like that._**

**_Scott was a perfect gentleman._**

**_It was my family._**

_Oh, lord, no one walked in on the two of you naked, did they?_

**_No, but it was a very interesting first meeting for Scott and Kate._**

**_She thought he was a klepto._**

_Oh no._

**_Unfortunately, oh yes._**

_What happened?_

**_The story involves a compound bow, a shot of tequila… and a condom._**

_Yeah, I'm seriously gonna need to hear this._

* * *

That Thursday I was working the evening shift at the store, after Alex, one of the local college boys who worked there, begged me to switch shifts with him. It meant that he could go on his date, and I could go with my dad and brother to the Teacher/Parents conferences the next evening, so I agreed without much trouble. In hindsight, I really wish I'd kicked up more of a fuss about it.

About an hour before close, I got a text from Jackson.

**Sonny – ****_SOS._**

I frowned for a second, and was about to reply asking what he meant, when I got another message.

**Sonny – ****_She's trying to make me rent that stupid Ryan Gosling movie again. Get your ass out here and HELP ME!_**

I snorted, letting Joe, the owner and manager of the place, know that I was taking my break as I hung up my paint-splattered apron, switched it for my jacket and made my way through the big wood and glass doors. I saw Jackson's Porsche parked outside the video store and headed straight for it, hearing Jackson's argument from a few feet away as Lydia rolled down the windows.

"I swear to God you're gonna like it."

"No," Lydia smiled at me as I crossed my arms and leaned over, resting my arms on her open window. Jackson sent me a look of pleading. I just shrugged.

"I am not watching _The Notebook_ again!" Jackson shouted at her. She turned her head to him, raising an eyebrow. No one is stupid enough to defy Lydia Martin. Not even Jackson. He stared at Lydia for a long second, before growling and shoving the car door open, slamming it behind him and grumbling the whole time it took him to enter the store. I giggled as Lydia whipped out her phone, opening up her camera and taking a few pictures of us.

"You know, maybe you could give him a movie choice every so often." Lydia sighed at me proposal. "I think you'd really like that _Hoosiers_ film he loves so much."

"I've seen it," Lydia huffed.

_What? _"What?"

She rolled her eyes, but I barely noticed, my attention instead drawn to the sudden and unexplained pounding of my heart against my chest. It had just come out of nowhere. "… and I _did _like it, it's a good movie. I'm just in the mood for _The Notebook_." I shook my head at her, a surprised smile on my face despite my overly loud heartbeat.

"You are just full of surprises, aren't you, Martin? It's no wonder Jackson loves you." She smirked, pleased with herself, and switched her phone camera to the video setting.

"Can I get you to say that on camera?" She smiled and tilted her head, slyly eyeing me up. "Just for future reference." I scoffed.

"You ain't got a chance in Hell." I saw the smile on her face, but her laugh was drowned out by the pounding in my ears. I looked up, feeling light headed for a second, before I blinked and everything was back in sharp focus. The neon shop sign above us buzzed loudly, the fluorescent light inside a little too bright. I heard Lydia talking, something about Allison's locker, but I couldn't concentrate on her words; instead, my attention was drawn to the store, to Jackson's frightened reaction to something I couldn't see, seconds before the lights went out. I stood up from the car window, my hands starting to shake as I took a step closer to the store, unsure why I would even want to do that in the first place. I just couldn't stop myself.

Lydia's attention was, as far as I could tell from the shutter noises and her lack of interest in the store, still 100 percent on her phone, but I found myself unable to call out to her. To let her know something weird was going on. That maybe she should leave.

One of the lights near the back of the store started flashing, and I could just make out Jackson's face as he turned and faced the windows. He looked utterly terrified, but he wasn't looking at me. He was looking at something else, something just inside the door. Then he was gone. Like he was hiding. _But hiding from what?_

From my position, I couldn't see anything other than a few rows of shelves, so I started to walk towards the shop. Sure, Jackson could have been hiding from a serial killer or something, but he was my best friend, and I wasn't just going to leave him. That's when I saw the shelves moving, falling, on to the one behind it, pushing it backwards too.

I was pretty sure Jackson was behind one of those shelves.

From this distance, it was hard to make out Jackson falling to the side, but I saw as he lay there, looking like he was struggling to move. At that point I thought I had no choice but to go inside, to get him out. And I was going to, striding around Lydia's car until I put a hand on the door.

And that was when I saw what Jackson had been hiding from.

The dark, hairy shadow crouched over Jackson, not doing anything other than staring as it tilted its head from side to side. One… paw… came up to hover just over the back of Jackson's neck, and I started screaming. At least, I thought I did, but my mouth didn't move and no sound came out. Maybe it was just in my head. Maybe this was all in my head. Only it wasn't. And I had to do something.

So I shoved open the door, the bell above me signalling my arrival to the party, and the thing whipped its head around to glower at me. Those eyes… the glowing red orbs that I _swear_ had been following me, there they were. And that's the thing that had been behind them.

After staring at me for a few moments, after Jackson had started screaming at me to get out, the thing stepped off of him, taking one step closer to me – only one – before it stopped. I heard howling, coming from everywhere and nowhere, right inside my own head, and the thing just… took off.

Like something had frightened it.

* * *

Despite all of my assurances that I was fine, the paramedics on the scene still insisted that I be checked over. I suppose it was protocol or whatever. Didn't stop me from feeling ridiculous, however.

Lydia was the one who needed the medical attention. She hadn't seen much, but that thing had crashed through the window and ran straight past the car, terrifying her. Since then, she'd barely spoken a word, instead sitting in the ambulance silently and not moving. It was kind of scary, seeing her like that. And it was a lot easier to focus on her than on what I saw. I ain't even sure what I saw.

We'd heard a few of the police officers milling around calling in the Sheriff, and his cruiser pulled up beside the ambulance pretty quickly after the… after what had happened. Jackson had been busy consoling Lydia and ranting at the paramedics to let us leave, but he turned his attention to the Sheriff as soon as he saw him.

"Why the hell can't I just go home? I'm fine." Jackson stood up as he face up the Sheriff, and at Lydia's tiny whimper, I took her now empty hand and put my own in it. I sat down next to her, and she suck into my side, her head on my shoulder.

"I hear ya, but the EMT said you hit your head pretty hard," the Sheriff replied to Jackson. "They just wanna make sure you don't have a concussion."

"What part of I'm fine are you having a problem grasping?" Jackson sneered. I sighed, wincing apologetically at the Sheriff.

"Jackson, stop it," I tried, tired to the bone.

"I wanna go home."

"Yeah, and I understand that."

"No, you don't understand!" Jackson shouted, stepping closer to the Sheriff to scream in his face. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, and whipped my head around, my heart thumping before I spotted Stilinski, watching the one-way shouting match between his dad and Jackson. It's a first, but I actually felt bad for the guy. And a little guilty. "Which kind of blows my mind, since it should be a pretty basic concept to grasp for a minimum-wage rent-a-cop like you!"

"Jackson!" He ignored me.

"Okay? Now I wanna GO HOME!" The Sheriff just took Jackson's screaming head on, not even shouting back, instead, somehow, remaining completely calm.

"Oh, wow, is that a dead body?!" Everyone turned towards the store as the younger Stilinski shouted, and I rolled my eyes. At the Sheriff's angered face, Stilinski sent his dad and sorry smile and slunk back into the car.

I called Jackson when the Sheriff turned to deal with the mob of people trying to get closer to the store and occupied stretcher, and he turned to me. "Can you…" I held up Lydia's hand, the rest of her not moving an inch, and Jackson sighed heavily. "Sorry if it's too much to ask for you to look after your girlfriend, but I don't think I can handle _that-_" I gestured to the black bag on the stretcher "- right now." When Jackson turned back to me, he studied me for a second, before nodding solemnly and taking a seat on Lydia's other side. I stood up, barely smiling in gratitude, and walked as fast as I could around the ambulance, leaning against the hood where it was much, much quieter and looking anywhere but behind me, where I could see all the flashing lights, the blue and the red, and that guy…

It had been the video store clerk. The guy that Jackson had found, he had been working that night, and the… mountain lion, or whatever it was that was going around killing people had…

Jackson hadn't told me any of the gory details, knowing it wouldn't sit well with me, but I knew enough, and saw enough, to piece the story together in my head. Now I couldn't get it out. All I kept thinking about was the blood, the screaming, those eyes…

_In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, and out through the mouth. In through the-_

_Oh, I can't breathe. Oh, lord, I can't breathe!_ I put my hand to my chest like it would help or something, just trying to gulp in some air. I knew I could breathe; I was breathing, but it wasn't enough. I couldn't get enough air in my lungs, and-

I felt something land on my shoulder, and given my state of mind at the time, I probably would've screamed if I wasn't mid-way through a mild issue with my breathing. But it was just Stilinski, murmuring things that I couldn't make out over my heavy breathing and deafening pulse in my ears, putting pressure on my shoulders until I sunk down to the floor with him. He just sat there in front of me, nodding slowly and talking quietly to me until I calmed down enough to hear him, assuring me I was breathing just fine, that I was okay, that my dad would be here any minute now.

"Nice elephant you've got there."

I paused my harsh breathing just long enough to let out a quick laugh, sure that I hadn't heard that correctly. "What?" I asked, thinking I really wasn't getting enough oxygen.

"Your necklace," he gestured to my neck, where my elephant luck pendant hung. _Luck… a fat lot of good this did me._ "Where'd you get it?"

"Having trouble breathing here."

"Where'd you get the necklace?" Stilinski urged, circling his hands in that 'just go with it' motion. I frowned, but answered him anyway, rubbing the elephant between my thumb and forefinger.

"My mom. She was always really into that kind of thing; karma, auras, charms. I don't know, I guess it kind of rubbed off on me." I noticed my breathing slowly start to return to a normal rate, and apparently so did Stilinski, because he sat back, crossing his legs, and relaxed a little. "She got this for me a little while before she died. It ain't anything special, but…" I shrugged.

"It's sentimental," Stilinski finished for me. I nodded, noticing not for the first time how sad he looked when people talked about their moms. I'd heard from someone when I first moved here how he'd lost his, back when he was just a kid. I suppose he understood those feelings more than most.

"I've haven't worn this in forever," I remarked, looking down at the pendant in my hand, frowning.

"What made you wear it today?"

"I don't know," I muttered, shaking my head slowly. Then I took a breath and looked back up at Stilinski. "But apparently, it don't work." He snorted and got up, holding out a hand to help me up. I raised an eyebrow at him as I took it, and he pulled me up, narrowing his eyes at me.

"I _can_ be nice, you know. I just choose not to be around you."

"I'm sure," I snorted, feeling just slightly awkward now.

"So…" Stilinski trailed off, his arms swinging by his sides, looking around us. Good to know I wasn't the only one feeling weird right about now.

"I'm just… I'm gonna go find Lydia."

"Right!" He nodded, a little frantically, before he frowned, looking concerned. "Is she okay?"

"She's shook up, that's all. That thing didn't… She'll be okay." Stilinski nodded, closing several times before he finally spoke.

"What was it? Did you see it?"

I felt my eyes widen slightly, and I let out a small breath, nodding slowly. It was a good question though; what was it?

"Mountain lion," I murmured quietly, staring a hole into the side of the ambulance. I heard Stilinski take in a quick breath, and I looked back up at his grave face.

"A mountain lion?" I nodded again, though it was a little shaky this time, and Stilinski huffed, running a hand down his face.

"Probably the same one that killed the bus driver. And Laura Hale," I suggested, not really believing myself, even as I said it.

Stilinski nodded. "Yeah, that's what I was worried about," he muttered, almost to himself. Before I could question him, I heard a familiar voice shouting Jackson's name.

"My daddy's here, I'm gonna…" I gestured back towards the voices, and he nodded again, holding his arm out to gesture me forward. He followed close behind, muttering to himself about mountain lions and Derek Hale the entire way.

Which was super weird, but given my evening, I barely noticed it.

* * *

My dad was surprisingly okay with my going to school the next day.

_Not_.

"Amber," I knew the _second_ I heard the stern tone to his voice that I was done for. I turned around from the front door, innocent, wide eyes plastered on, and stepped closer to the breakfast bar where Daddy was stood.

"Yes, Daddy?"

"Where do y'all think you're going?"

"School. The weekend hasn't started just yet," I smiled, hoping it might con him into letting me leave without a fuss.

No such luck.

"Sweetie, y'all ain't going to school today. I'm working from home, and you're staying here with me."

"Daddy-"

"No. You went through a lot last night, and you need to stay home and take it easy."

"I can take it easy over the weekend!"

"Amber."

"Daddy, I'm fine. I swear. The cougar didn't even touch me."

"I know that, it ain't your physical state I'm worried about."

"I'm okay, Daddy. And I think the best thing for me right now is to carry on as normal."

"Amber, I don't-"

"I'm going to school," I stated, my posture straight and my chin out. This was not the time for the puppy eyes. This was the time for an adult decision. "It's Allison's birthday today, and since Lydia ain't gonna be in, I'll need to be. And it'll be good for Jackson for me to be there. He went through a lot last night, too, Daddy." I saw his face soften a little, and I knew he was giving in. "More than I did." Daddy closed his eyes for a second, and sighed before looking at me again.

"I'll keep an eye on her, Dad," Josh promised from just behind me, on the bottom stair. I sent him a grateful smile, and his responding one was a little more mischievous. "I'll expect a favour in return, of course. But we can work out the finer details later."

* * *

I walked through the hallway after home room, making my way to my locker, and as I turned a corner I immediately caught sight of Allison reaching her locker. I stopped, backtracked a little, and hid behind the corner I had just rounded, peering around to await the surprise Lydia had already set up for the birthday girl.

I don't know how Lydia had known, because Allison had told neither of us. We figured that might have had something to do with the fact Allison was seventeen this year, a year older than most of the students in our year. We also figured that we wouldn't bring up her age to her, because she'd tell us why she was held back if and when she wanted to.

Allison's face wasn't too impressed as the balloons floated out of her locker, and she quickly tried shoving them back, pushing one in as the others floated back out. I giggled a little at her struggle, and was about to show myself and help her, maybe also apologise for Lydia's lack of subtlety, but then I saw Scott see her and make his way over, that silly, love-struck smile already in place. So I turned back around and took the long way to my locker, letting them enjoy their morning together before first period.

* * *

"Just a friendly reminder, parent/teacher conferences are tonight. Students below a C average are required to attend. I won't name you because the shame and the self-disgust should be more than enough punishment. Has anyone seen Scott McCall?" Harris asked, looking directly at Stiles as he continued to highlight… no, colour in his textbook. Stiles looked up around the classroom, and when he didn't spot his best friend, looked up to Harris.

Before any responding sarcastic quip could begin to form, Jackson walked through the door, just a few minutes late. Harris didn't seem fazed by the late entry, instead allowing Jackson to sit at the table beside me, before leaning down, studying the both of us over his glasses.

"If either of you need to leave early, for anything, you just let me know." Jackson nodded, and I sent Harris a smile to say thank you.

"Everyone, start reading chapter nine," Harris commanded as he walked back to the front of the class. "Mr Stilinski." Said boy's head whipped up at the sound of his name, but Harris didn't turn around to address him. Instead, he picked up a piece of chalk. "Try putting the highlighter down between paragraphs. It's Chemistry, not a colouring book." I snorted quietly, and Stilinski sent me a withering glare in return. Seems last night's chat didn't affect our friendly relationship in the slightest. He then turned towards Danny, leaning forward in his seat to bother him as much as possible.

"So… last night was fun." Jackson turned to me, one of his eyebrows raised. "We should definitely _never_ do that again sometime." Despite the glare he sent me, I saw the slight upturn of his lips, and I mentally fist pumped the air. I smiled brightly at him, twiddling my pencil between my fingers as I turned back to my textbook, before a loud clang from the other side of the classroom drew my attention away again. I just managed to catch Stilinski stumbling back to a stand, picking his stool up from where it had fallen over, and I snorted as Danny's head fell into his hands.

* * *

"Hey, Amber, can I ask you a question?"

I rolled my eyes as Stilinski caught up with me on my way to my locker as our lunch period came to an end. It was funny, I knew Lydia wasn't at school today, and Allison had totally been skipping since first period, probably with Scott, but I hadn't seen Jackson since gym last period either. Danny didn't have a clue where he was, none of the lacrosse boys did. It wasn't like him.

Bu that wasn't my main issue at the moment.

"You just did."

"Ha, you're hilarious. Seriously."

I sighed as we reached my locker, and I spun the combination is as he stood there, tapping his feet impatiently. "What is it, Stilinski?" I asked, giving in as I opened my locker.

"Is Lydia in school? I haven't seen her all day." I frowned, stacking my textbooks in my arms and putting them on the shelf in my locker.

"Why do you want to know?"

Stilinski's eyes widened, and his mouth fell open as he stammered. "I just wanted to make sure she was okay, that's all," he said finally.

I hummed in doubt. "Mmhmm. No, she's not."

"She's at home? Why is she at home? Is everything-"

"I told you last night, she's fine," I insisted, pulling out my Sociology textbook. "She ain't hurt or anything. She just wasn't feeling up for school this morning, so she stayed home. Okay?" Stilinski didn't look at all comforted by my assurances. "Urgh. Just skip next period and go and see her."

"What?!"

"You're obviously not going to stop asking everyone she knows how she is, so save us all the bother and go and see her for yourself. Seriously." I shut the locker door with a slam, and turned to Stilinski, watching his face turn thoughtful and just a little excited. "And while you're at it, get a life that doesn't revolve around Lydia. You're not on her radar." I raised an eyebrow at Stilinski's offended expression, before skirting him and striding back up the hallway, leaving him and his gaping mouth to it.

I had barely made it up the stairs to my next class when Jackson finally decided to show his face. And it wasn't to say hello.

"We are getting the hell outta here," he hissed as he grabbed my arm and turned me around, dragging me back towards the stairs. "Derek freaking Hale just cornered me in the locker room, demanding that I tell him what I saw last night."

"Wait, what?" I asked, too shocked by that to even complain about his death grip on my arm.

"I tried telling him I didn't see anything, but he just kept asking me."

"_Derek Hale_ was here? Again?"

"And then, _and then_, he told me I should really get the injury that _he gave me _checked out."

"This school really needs to get better security."

"Are you even listening to me?!" Jackson exclaimed, coming to a halt to stand in front of me, arms out to the side.

"Yes, I am. What I don't understand is why we both have to leave three periods before the end of the day if he's already left you alone."

"He's left _me_ alone. But if he knows I was there, he knows you were there too. And you saw a lot more than I did." I nodded for a second, mulling over his words.

"Yeah, let's get the hell out of here."

* * *

Jackson had dropped me off at my car after I had text Josh, letting him know I was leaving, and then bolted. I'm not sure where he went, but he took off pretty fast, saying he had stuff he had to figure out. Daddy didn't ask too many questions when I got home, since he hadn't wanted me to go to school in the first place, but made sure I went straight upstairs for a nap.

I had that dream again. The one about my mom, and those wolves. My best guess is that all the stress from the past couple of says needed an outlet, and this was the closest thing my brain could find.

Maybe I should take up boxing or something.

I woke up about an hour or so later, feeling groggy and not at all refreshed, and went with him to pick Josh up, because I didn't really want to be in the house on my own after what Jackson had told me about Derek. I didn't tell my dad that, of course, but he didn't ask for a reason anyway.

Josh and I watched a couple episodes of _Breaking Bad_ in my room until the conferences were due to start, and after I had showered and changed from my sweats we bundled into the car with Dad. we bundled into the car with Dad. Neither of us were doing badly, both of us averaging As, but Daddy had promised a family dinner at the new Italian in town and unlimited FroYo afterwards if we was impressed by our teacher's comments.

He was, of course. And damn right, who wouldn't be impressed by Josh's 'perpetual work ethic' and 'remarkable team skills' and my 'outstanding dedication' and 'vivid imagination'.

We were leaving the school, headed towards the doors, when Ms McCall, Scott's mom, stepped pushed through the doors in front of us and started, pretty loudly, reprimanding him down the phone. I saw Mr Argent coming down some stairs through another set of doors and stopped, not really wanting to have to stop and say hi. I hadn't seen him at all since that time at the gas station, with Derek, and I wasn't sure I'd be able to be polite towards the guy. But Ms McCall got there first and stopped his and his wife's march back towards their car. My assumption: Mrs McCall thought the two missing lovebirds were together.

She was right.

Just as we stopped so Josh could awkwardly introduce us to Melanie and her parents – there was no escaping it, Daddy had _literally_ walked right into her dad – I saw Allison's car pull into one of the spaces in the parking lot, Scott trying, and failing, to hide in the passenger seat.

Allison looked from hers and Scott's parents talking not so nicely to one another, and got out of the car, eyes wide and frightened. She caught sight of me and pouted, but I wasn't sure what comfort I could give her, so I just crossed myself and prayed to whoever might be listening. She smirked, looked towards her parents again, and immediately dropped her head, looking embarrassed and totally shamed.

Poor thing.

She and Scott looked like they were walking to their deaths as they approached their parents, moving as slowly as possible to put of the inevitable, despite the fact their parents were marching towards them at a much faster speed.

I looked on for a few moments, my distraction catching Josh's eye, before he was sniggering at them too.

"The dangers of skipping class. At least be smart about it." Dad raised an eyebrow at Josh's words, and Josh immediately stopped laughing to himself. "What I meant was-"

Someone screamed. I don't know who it was, it sounded like it was coming from the other side of the parking lot, but everyone in the vicinity stopped what they were doing and just started, in complete silence, for a few seconds.

And then all hell broke loose.

People started running in different directions, heads whipping around trying to find the source of the commotion, and little screams broke out all over the place. I saw Coach running through the moving crowds and jumping in his car, and felt my dad pull me back by the sleeve.

"Y'all stay here, I'm gonna go see what's going on," he murmured as the screams started getting a little louder.

"Daddy…"

"Just stay here."

He wandered off, careful of the people running around and the cars taking off. I noticed Scott looking around too, Allison not far behind, and _screw it_, Daddy was _definitely _going to kill me, but I needed to know what was going on. So I gestured to Josh where I was going – he didn't even try to persuade me to stay, he knows me so well – and made my way towards Allison.

I was about half way there, weaving between the cars and people, when I heard the first growl.

I couldn't move. It was like my feet were glued to the floor. My brain started flooding with memories, of the attack last night, of the red orbs that have been following me _everywhere_, of the dreams I've been having since the night my mom died, all at once. And then my feet were moving of their own accord, moving I don't even know where, because I was too focused on that all-encompassing feeling of dread that had overcome me. My skin was tingling, I felt sick to my stomach, and my heart was so loud in my ears that I couldn't hear the screams anymore. I couldn't hear the screaming or the cars, but I could hear it; the growling. I could almost _feel_ it, as if it was vibrating in my bones.

And then I felt it.

I felt the car hit me.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for any lapses in the time scale and whatnot, I'm trying to figure it out, and I think I've pretty much gotten it down so far in my planning, but I might have screwed up a couple of times, so bear with me.**

**Also, my Teen Wolf Tumblr is pretty much up and running. I might still be editing it as I go, but for now, go on my profile and check it out if you want face-claims, outfits and sneak peeks!  
**


	5. Slippery Slope

**A/N: I don't care how real life high school's work, in my Beacon Hills, you have home room for announcements and whatever at 8:00, and then first period starts at 8:15. Kay. Suck it, Jeff Davis.**

**Also, I know it doesn't make sense, but the ****_Heart Monitor_**** episode takes place on a Tuesday here. It just does. Work with me, here.**

**I don't own Teen Wolf. Shock Horror.**

* * *

And then I felt it.

I felt the car hit me.

Only, it didn't hit me. Nothing did. I was stood between two parked cars, watching the commotion around me like it was all in slow motion. I felt the pain burning along my right side, from my thigh up to my shoulder, but nothing had hit me.

I heard a growl very close by, and a loud "move, move" as someone directed orders to the frightened mob. It was the Sheriff, running between the cars, trying to find out what was going on before anyone got hurt. But _he_ was going to get hurt. I just _knew_ it.

So I ran. Before I saw him run out behind a car, before I saw that very car backing up too fast, before I even realised what was happening. I ran. I ran, and I shoved, and we both ended up on the concrete, pretty much unscathed and definitely _not_ hit by any car.

He looked at me, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in a way that looked so oddly familiar as the driver got out to check if we were okay, before we all turned at the sound of growling, louder and louder. He reached for the gun at his ankle, but before he could pull it out, we heard a gunshot. And then another. The Sheriff jumped up, holding out a hand to help me up just as his son had done the night before, and when my dad reached me, his face furious and terrified and worried all at once, the Sheriff raced off to find the source of the shots fired.

"I thought I told you to stay where you were."

* * *

So, despite the fact I could have potentially saved another person, the _Sheriff's_ life that night, I pretty much spent the weekend grounded.

I mean, Daddy never actually said the word 'grounded', or 'under house arrest' or anything, but unless either he or Josh were with me, he vetoed any and all leaving the house.

I get it, he told me to stay where I was, and there was a wild animal on the loose that could have very well attacked me, not to mention all the terrified people with heavy metal contraptions that could have seriously done me some damage had I been hit by one. So I get why he would be worried about our safety. And I get that, had anything happened to me, he would've been upset. But a) nothing did happen to me, and b) I saved a good person from a lot of unwarranted pain. He should've been proud of me, but no.

Whatever, what I'm trying to say is that I had the most boring weekend to have ever existed.

Because I pushed someone out of the way of a moving car.

Makes total sense, huh?

So after that weekend and a terrible day which is so often the case for Mondays, I huffed my way into school that Tuesday morning, flinging a goodbye over my shoulder as I left the house and turning the radio up as far as I could bear it on the drive over. By the time I had ditched Josh and made it through homeroom, my strop had pretty much simmered to a mild annoyance, and I assume it was that feeling showing on my face that stopped anyone from trying to talk to me.

As soon as the bell rang for first period, I was out of the classroom like a shot. I think I heard a few people whispering about me as I walked through the halls on my way to History, but I was in full on bitch mode, so I didn't even glance in the direction of the sound.

Instead, I strolled through the halls looking down my nose at everyone I passed. In case you're wondering, yes, I have taken a few pointers from Jackson and Lydia. I think the former taught me everything I know on how to be a jackass.

I made my way to the very back of the classroom, next to the windows, and took a seat and getting comfortable, my hurried departure from homeroom meaning I got to class long before the second bell.

One of the first faces that joined me in the room was that of the younger Stilinski. He ambled into the room, his head down until he looked up to find a seat, and noticing me in my usual one. He gaped for a second, before a look of determination crossed his face, and he marched forward to sit at a desk diagonal to mine. He tapped his fingers against his desk, leaning far backwards in his seat, and then he was whipping around, his left forearm leaning on the back of his chair.

"Why'd you do that?"

I frowned, pursing my lips. "Why'd I do what?"

Stilinski rolled his eyes, shoulders sagging. "Why'd you push my dad out of the way of a moving car, endangering yourself in the process?"

I shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious. So, instead of showing it, I smirked. "It was my good deed for the day."

Stilinski huffed. "Okay, be as sarcastic and/or nonchalant as you want, but I'm trying to be serious for a second."

"Makes a change," I scoffed. His knee starts bouncing, as if he were riling himself up to say something. His mouth opened, but no words came out for a long moment. Until…

"I'm really glad you were there," Stilinski muttered quietly and quickly, earnest nonetheless. He looked me dead in the eye as he said it, and he even smiled at me. "Thank you."

"Oh, god," I whispered, hand over my heart. "Are we having a moment? Does that mean I should call you Stiles now?" He rolled his eyes.

"Screw you, Wilson."

"Last name. Ouch. And I thought we were friends."

He stared at me for a long moment, eyes narrowing as he studied my face, before he scoffed and turned to face the front again, shaking his head as he did so. Scott walked through the door at that point, coming to a pause as he saw Stilinski. The head shaking didn't stop.

Scoot looked around the room, looking almost embarrassed, as he slowly made his way between the desks to sit behind Stiles, on my right.

"Hey, Amber," he greeted, nodding in my direction. I nodded back, taking off my cardigan and sinking in my seat to get comfortable. Scott leant forward in his to get Stilinski's attention. Not that it worked, or anything. I think someone was being ignored.

"Still not talking to me?" Scott asked his friend. His friend who didn't respond.

Scott huffed. "Can you at least tell me if your dad's okay?" He sighed when Stilinski ignored him again, but from my angle, I could see the latter boy's face getting more and more frustrated, like he was just bursting to say something, and that tick in his jaw was pulsing away. "I mean, he didn't even get hit, right? It's not that big of a deal." Stilinski scoffed loudly, whipping around in his seat to face Scott.

"Not that big of a deal? Scott, my dad almost got hit by a car!" He threw an arm out to gesture at me. "If it weren't for Wilson and her dramatic 'good deeds', the 'almost' in that sentence wouldn't be necessary!" Stilinski sat forward again, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"Stiles, I said I was sorry." I saw the angry shake of Stilinski's head, and Scott turned to me pleadingly.

I held both my hands up, palms facing Scott. "Hey, I ain't helping you out here. I'm on Stilinski's side." Two identically surprised faces stared at me from the other aisle of desks. "What?"

"Me?" Stilinski asked, pointing at himself with a bemused expression.

I nodded at them as if they were stupid. "Is there another Stilinski in the room I should know about?"

Stiles spluttered a little more, and I rolled my eyes. "Why?"

"Because, dumbass, save for my brother, my Daddy's all I've got too." At that, both of their faces softened a little, only for Stilinski's to turn into a soft frown. "And if Jackson was too busy babysitting Lydia to save my only living parent from an oncoming car and he ended up hurt, I'd be pretty pissed."

Scott looked between me and Stilinski, as the other boy continued to frown at me.

"What?" I questioned, very aware of the serious gazes on me. "I _can_ have human emotions, you know. I'm not a robot."

"I never thought you were a robot. More of a clone with less depth than a puddle," Stilinski's replied, smiling to himself. I rolled my eyes.

"You know I feel really bad about it, right?" Scott murmured. The smile slid off of Stilinski's face and he turned to face the front again, steadfastly ignoring his best friend.

"Okay, I think that's my cue to leave," I declared, throwing my cardigan over my arm and sliding my books into my hands.

"What?" Scott asked, looking up from the back of Stilinski's head.

"You guys really should talk this out without me eavesdropping." I stood up, picking up my bag from the floor before gesturing to myself. "Plus, this is a new top. I don't wanna get your feelings all over it."

I sunk down into a seat closer to the front, still beside the windows, and arranged my things how I liked them, before turning back around just as our teacher started rambling about an assignment, to find Stilinski turned completely around in his seat, Scott smiling just slightly. He looked at me over Stilinski's shoulder, and I gave him a thumbs up and a confused expression, asking if all was good. He sent me a thumbs up and a smile, answering with a yes.

All was right with the world.

* * *

All was _not_ right with the world.

My English teacher is a total dick; though _that's _not a huge surprise. The surprise was how far he went with the whole 'figuring out who threw the paper airplane at him', keeping _the entire class_ behind for an extra fifteen minutes. He expected someone to break, to plead guilty or give up the culprit. Neither happened, and eventually he gave up.

Spoiler alert; it was Greenburg.

Anyway, so _now _I'm getting my food from the cafeteria before joining Lydia and Allison at the table, only _there's no good food left_. I had to put up with a salad, and they taste worse than usual here.

I not-so-gently placed my tray of 'food' on the table as Lydia questioned "The what of who?"

"The beast of Gévaudan," Allison responded, smiling at me excitedly with a large book in her hand. "Listen." She placed a finger on the page she had open, reading aloud. "A quadruped wolf-like monster, prowling the Auvergne and south Dordogne areas of France during the years 1764 to 1767. La bête killed over a hundred people, becoming so infamous that the king Louis the fifteenth sent one of his best hunters to try and kill it." She looked up at Lydia and I, her eyes flicking between the both of us as Lydia nodded.

"Boring." I rolled my eyes at Lydia, leaning forward to let Allison know I wanted to hear more. She smiled at me.

"Even the church eventually declared the monster a messenger of Satan." I pursed my lips, intrigued. Lydia hummed.

"Still boring."

"Crypto zoologists believe it may have been a subspecies of hooved predator, possible a mesonychid."

"Slipping into a coma bored."

Allison smiled, and her voice took on the kind of tone you'd use when telling a ghost story. "While other believed it was a powerful sorcerer who could shape shift into a man-eating monster."

"Wait, isn't this supposed to be a family history project?" I asked after swallowing a mouthful of lettuce. "What has any of that got to do with your family?"

"Wait, this is the part." Allison scooted around on her seat a little, getting comfortable before she delved back into the story. "It is believed that la bête was finally trapped and killed by a renowned hunter, who claimed his wife and four children were the first to fall prey to the creature." Allison looked up again, a small, almost proud smile on her face. "His name was Argent."

"Oh, my god. That's so cool," I exclaimed, and Allison smiled brightly at me, nodding.

"Your ancestors killed a big wolf. So what?"

"Not just a big wolf," Allison replied as she flipped through the book. "Take a look at this picture. What does it look like to you?" I looked up from my salad, focusing on the page, and I swear my heart stopped. _Those eyes… the bright red eyes…_

"Amber!" I looked back up from the book when Allison shouted my name, drawing the attention of everyone in the cafeteria. She cleared her throat and smiled shyly at everyone before turning back to me. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, swallowing around the lump in my throat, when I noticed we were a person short. "Where'd Lydia go?" Allison frowned.

"To class… Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just spaced out a little there, that's all." Allison nodded, still studying me, concerned.

"Hey, what're you doing tonight?"

I checked in my head, thankful for the change of topic, and came up blank. "Uh, nothing. Why?"

"Well, I was going to ask Scott to come over tonight, to study, but I was thinking you could come over for a bit before? You can meet my aunt Kate," she smiled. Despite the vow to myself to stay as far away as possible from Mr Argent, the promise of meeting the famous aunt sealed the deal for me.

I returned Allison's smile. "Definitely."

"Scott?" Allison's gaze was drawn to the other side of the cafeteria, where Scott was hastily making his way out of the cafeteria behind Stilinski, while also completely ignoring Allison. She stood up from her seat. "Scott, wait." She looked back to me when he continued to walk… no, run away, and I frowned back.

"Go." I waved her off. "Go figure out why he's being weird again."

"Thanks, Amber." She grabbed her books and made her way towards the exit, spinning around and walking backwards to shout, "I'll see you in Econ," before running out.

Now if I could just get those _eyes_ out of my head.

* * *

"Jackson, will you-"

"Amber, I already have an appointment with a doctor, okay?" He wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we walked slowly behind Johnson and Blake, two of the other lacrosse boys. "Now will you stop worrying?"

"Ahh, you know me better than that, Sonny." Jackson laughed quietly as we rounded the bleachers, headed back towards the school. Jackson stopped, pulling me to pause beside him, and pointed towards the lacrosse field.

Where Stilinski was pelting Scott with lacrosse balls.

"What the hell?" Jackson chuckled.

"… is that duct tape around his wrists?" Jackson leant forward, squinting as he checked, before he started laughing again, holding a hand to his stomach. "Okay, I've seen enough weird for one day, I think. Come on."

"Oh no, I'm soaking in as much of this as I can." I shook my head at Jackson, smiling as he continued to laugh at the two.

"Well you do that, I'm gonna head to the library before period ends." He nodded goodbye to me, already too engrossed in what was happening on the field to pay me any mind. I figured I'd see him next period anyway.

* * *

Jackson wasn't in next period.

I told Harris he wasn't feeling well, so was with the nurse, and Harris took the excuse without a problem, but even Danny didn't know where he was.

What is it with the new skipping craze? First Allison and Scott, now Jackson. Next, Lydia would be missing from school. It was ridiculous. It was almost pretty much forgotten when I walked into last period Econ and saw Dumb and Dumber whispering to one another at their desks, and I remembered what Free Period Entertainment I'd had this afternoon.

"Y'all are into some _really_ weird shit, you know that, right?"

Scott and Stilinski looked at each other, before turning around in their seats to look at me where I sat behind Stilinski.

"What?" Scott asked, not having a clue what I was talking about.

"Your idea of a fun free period is to throw lacrosse balls at each other?" Scott's eyes widened, and I saw Stilinski drop his head into his hands. I smirked.

"Stiles was just… uh… trying to work on his aim," Scott stammered.

"I thought that was what practice was for?" Stilinski huffed at my interrogation.

"Look, I was trying to work out some of my anger," Stilinski explained, holding his hands out and nodding. "Scott figured trying to get even might help." I hummed, totally not believing it, but whatever.

"Did it work?" Stilinski pursed his lips and tilted his head at Scott, considering.

"No." Scott's face fell, and Stilinski smirked at his friend's pout. Then he frowned. "Why're you sitting by us?"

I held up a finger for a second, telling him to wait, before Allison dropped down behind Scott, to my left, completely undetected by the boy who had been avoiding her all day. I smiled at Allison, who smiled in gratitude at the successful plan, and then I turned to smirk at the two boys. Stilinski was too busy holding his head again to notice.

"I feel like I haven't seen you all day."

I leant forward in my seat as Allison and Scott talked, and tapped Stilinski on the shoulder with my pen, he turned around, seemingly checking in on Scott as his eyes found mine, narrowing as they did.

"What?"

"Nice to see y'all too, Stilinski."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Stilinski cleared his throat, sitting up straight as he smiled at me. "Hey, Amber. How has your day been? Kicked any puppies lately?"

"My legs are just about long enough to kick _you_ if you carry on." I smiled pleasantly as Coach began telling everyone to quiet down, and I ducked my head to hide behind Stilinski. I lowered my voice, so that neither Allison or Scott would be able to overheard what I was saying. "What's going on with Scott today?" Stilinski's eyes widen, just as they always do whenever I ask a question he doesn't seem to want to answer.

"What?"

"Scott. He's been avoiding Allison all day."

"He's just been bus-"

_Oh, for the love of… _"Don't insult me," I spat, and Stilinski shut his mouth, breathing out heavily through his nose. "He's been actively avoiding her since this morning, and when she stops seeing their relationship through rose-coloured glasses, she's going to see it too. And then she's gonna get pissed."

Stilinski frowned for a second, looking surprised. "You know what rose-coloured glasses are?"

I huffed and pursed my lips as Stilinski tilted his head, then nodding it as if… as if he were impressed. Which is a new one, directed at me from him.

"Let's settle down," Coach requested with the slam of a book against the desk. Stilinski spun back around to face the front, as did Scott, and Coach looked around the classroom.

"Let's start with a quick summary of last night's reading," I raised my hand, noticing it to be one of the few in the classroom. "Greenburg, put your hand down; everyone knows you did the reading. How about, uh… McCall?" Scott's head whipped up at his name, looking like a terrified little puppy.

"Wha…"

"The reading," Coach instructed as he sat on the edge of his desk.

"Last night's reading?" Scott asked.

"How about the reading of the Gettysburg Address?" Someone sniggered in the back. Probably Greenburg.

"What?"

"That's sarcasm. Are you familiar with the term 'sarcasm', McCall?"

Scott looked over to Stilinski, and I could almost hear the latter boy smile. "Very."

"Did you do the reading or no?" Coach asked.

"Um… I think I forgot." _Oh, this was going to get ugly._

"Nice work, McCall. It's not like you're averaging a D in this class." I held a hand to my mouth, and I was surprised to find that it wasn't because I wanted to keep the laughter in. It was to stop myself from jumping to Scott's defence. Even though he didn't really have one that I knew of.

This was new.

"Come on, buddy," Coach whispered to Scott, leaning over the boys desk. "You know I can't keep you on the team if you have a D."

I looked over to Allison, smiling comfortingly as she bit her thumb nail, looking at me with wide eyes, as if she were asking me how to help. I shrugged, biting my lip.

"How about you summarise, uh, the previous reading?" I heard a beeping, just slightly under Coach's voice, and I think… _Was it coming from Stilinski?_

"No? How about the reading before that? How about you summarise anything you've ever read? In your entire life." I was torn between feeling sorry for Scott and figuring out why Stilinski was beeping. He turned to Scott, and from there I managed to catch his attention and tap my ear. He didn't seem to get my meaning though, instead shrugging crazily and turning to the front again, wiping a hand down his face.

"I… I uh…"

"A blog? How about, uh, the back of a cereal box?"

_That beeping was definitely getting louder. And quicker. But why was my heart starting to beat quicker too?_

"No? How about the 'Adults Only' warning from your favourite website that you visit every night? Anything?" Coach stood up, with that disappointed look that only teachers and parents can master so well. My heart was starting to get so loud I could only just hear the beeping, and Coach's voice was drowned out.

And suddenly, it was gone.

"Unless that's too much reading." My heart rate was back to normal, the beeping had slowed and quietened. Just in an instant.

I saw Stilinski look around, just as I was, like he was looking for the cause. His eyes paused on something near Allison's desk, and I turned to see what he was so intrigued by.

Allison was leaning forward in on her desk, her chin resting on her right arm, and her left arm hanging down beside her desk. She was holding Scott's hand, comforting him in the only way she really could right now.

It was quite possibly the cutest thing I'd ever seen.

No, no, it wasn't. As Coach carried on with the lesson, I turned to Allison, and as Scott turned his head slightly to see her, I caught the look on her face, that tiny, blissful smile as she looked back up at him.

_That_ was the cutest thing I'd ever seen.

* * *

"Y'all are so _cute_," I whined at Allison as she opened her locker. She smiled, that same content little smile she always had when the topic of Scott came up.

"I didn't really know what else to do," she shrugged, still smiling as she pulled her books out and placed them in her bag.

"No, I think that was exactly what he needed at that moment. Like I said, _cute_." She giggled and turned to me. I say 'turned' but it seemed a little more like a spin cut short, like she was barely holding back a dance or something.

"Okay, so Scott's coming over at 8:30…" I stopped rifling through my bag for my keys to raise an eyebrow at Allison.

"To 'study'," I smirked, making the quotation marks with the fingers on my hand not carrying my books. Allison rolled her eyes, but didn't correct me.

"And I've already texted Kate, saying you'll be over soon. She's really excited."

"So am I, she sounds amazing."

"She _is_ amazing. You two are gonna get on so well." Allison smiled again, bright and cutesy, as she took her coat out of her locker and slammed the door shut. "So I'll see you in a bit?" she asked.

I nodded. "I won't be long, just gonna drop Josh and my books home, and then I'll be over." Allison smiled, and I sent her a wave as I backed away, down the hallway and out the door, soon spotting Josh already leaning against my car.

"Urgh, what took you so long?" he moaned.

"I was showing Melanie some childhood photos of you. You know, the naked ones?" Josh smirked as he rounded the car and opened the passenger door when I unlocked it.

"I'd actually believed that if I hadn't just spent the past hour with her and saw her drive off with her mom." I sighed exaggeratedly. "Good try, thou- is that Stilinski?"

I turned around to what Josh was staring at, only to find Stilinski _keying a car_ not thirty feet from us. Then we heard "What do you think you're doing to that truck, bro?" not directed at Stilinski, but directed at Scott. _From_ Stilinski. _What?_ We must've caught Stilinski's sight, because he stills for a few seconds, before laughing weakly and giving a light wave. I just shook my head at him

A few guys, seniors from the looks of it, advance on Scott then, one of them obviously the owner, and just punches Scott right in the face. Josh and I jump in shock and wince in sympathy, and as they started laying into him I took a step towards the group to break it up, only to see Harris racing towards them instead.

"Stop! Stop it right now!"

The seniors bolted at the sound of Harris' voice, and he stared after them before turning back to the boy on the floor.

"What do you idiots think you're doing?" he asked, glaring at Scott through his glasses.

"Um…"

"Get up." Harris grabbed the shoulder of Scott's jacket, hauling him up and gesturing with a pointed finger for Stilinski to follow. Then he caught sight of Josh and I.

"Ah, the Wilsons," he smiled at us, not unkindly, and I smiled back.

"Afternoon Mr Harris," Josh called, giving him a small, friendly wave.

"Did either of you see anything?" Harris asked us. Josh and I looked at each other, and without me having to bat an eye, he knew to shrug and frown.

"No, sir." Stilinski frowned at Josh's response, knowing we saw him scratch the car and blame it on Scott. "We showed up around the time you did."

Harris nodded at us both. "Alright then. You both get on home, I have to deal with these two geniuses." He hauled Scott back inside the school, shouting at Stilinski to follow when he just gaped at the two of us for a second. When he finally caught up to Scott and Harris, Josh turned to me.

"What was that about?"

"Something weird is going on with McCall lately," I said quietly, resting my chin on my folded arms on the roof of my car.

"So what?" Josh asked, his hand coming up just to flop down and hit the roof again in question. "That mean we're covering for him and his stupid friend now?" I pursed my lips.

"Yeah," I breathed. I stood up straight, opening my car door. "At least until I figure this whole thing out."

* * *

I heard another howl that evening.

I had been at Allison's for a little while, and I'd eaten dinner with her and her parents (I think Mr Argent might have some sort of personality disorder or something, because he was as cute as pie over dinner – funny, too), before we started watching a movie in Allison's room, waiting for Kate to get home. And half way through the movie, everything else, every sound, every movement, just shut off, and all I could hear was this long, low, rumbling noise that shook every bone in my body and sent shivers down my spine. I actually think I shivered, because Allison looked over and pulled the blanket from the bottom of her bed over to me.

I have absolutely no idea what the hell it was, or what it meant. All I know is that it kind of terrified me.

Not long after that, Kate showed up, walking into Allison's room with a polite knock.

"Kate, hi!" Allison rushed up from her bed to greet her aunt with a hug, and I got up and made my way around the bed stopping just behind Allison.

"You must be Amber," Kate greeted with a big smile and a hand that I shook. "Firm grip you got there."

"My Daddy always taught me to give a good first impression." Kate gasped.

"That's quite a southern drawl I hear," she queried, smiling.

"Nashville, born and bred."

"Oh, I love you already!" Kate exclaimed as Allison giggled.

"I told you," the younger Argent said to me with a smile.

* * *

"I didn't even feel bad!" Kate laughed.

"Good for you, I wouldn't either."

"Amber!"

"What?" I asked at Allison's surprised gasp. "I'm just saying, if some guy cheated on me and embarrassed me like that, I'd probably wouldn't feel bad about setting his car on fire either." I thought about it for a second as Kate and Allison giggled. "Actually, maybe I'd drive it into a frozen lake or something instead. Revenge is a dish best served cold, after all."

Kate hummed, nodding towards the bowls of ice cream in front of the three of us at the breakfast bar. "I once heard someone say that revenge was like ice cream. Y'know, how it's sweet and best served cold."

I pointed my spoon at Kate, nodding. "I like that. I don't think you could find two sweeter things."

Kate put down her spoon and crossed her arms on the table, studying me for a second. "Do you mind if I ask you something kind of personal?"

"You can ask, but I might not answer," I smiled. She seemed to like that answer, as she replied with a quick laugh.

"Why'd you move to Beacon Hills?" Allison leaned forward, and I figured she was waiting for the answer too. "From what Allison's told me, I get the impression you've got roots here, but that accent is pretty fresh off the plane." I nodded.

"We moved here not long before the beginning of Freshman year. My, uh… my mom died a couple years ago, and we kinda needed a change of scenery after that." Allison laid a hand on top of mine, and I sent her a grateful smile. It wasn't as painful talking about Mom as it used to be, but the gesture was still appreciated.

"Do you mind if I ask how she died?"

"Kate," Allison warned.

"Right, sorry," Kate apologised, physically backing off. "I'm not good with tact and that sort of stuff."

"No, it's okay. It's almost kind of ironic, actually." Kate and Allison wore matching frowns. "It was an animal attack." Is it normal to laugh when talking about your mom's brutal death? Because that's what I did. "We don't know exactly what happened, but the best the police could figure was that one of her tyres gave out on her drive home from work, and while she was stranded, she…" I cleared my throat. "Yeah. So we left, thinking we had friends in Beacon Hills, and it could be our sanctuary, and now there are mountain lions murdering video store clerks and bus drivers."

Kate snorted. "Beacon Hills is no one's sanctuary."

* * *

"He's supposed to be here by now," Allison groaned.

"He works at the animal clinic, right? Maybe there was an emergency there or something," I suggested, kind of desperately.

"I don't know…" Allison's phone began to chime, and she pulled it from her pocket, putting Jackson on speaker when she answered it.

"Lydia says we're coming to get you."

"Please, don't. I'm sure he's on his way. He's only… 26 minutes late." I rubbed my hand on her arm, hoping it might comfort her a little.

"You hear that?" Lydia's voice cut in through the phone. "First it's 'he's only 26 minutes late', a month later it's 'he only hits me when he's drunk'. Slippery slope, Allison. Slippery slope."

"We're picking you up," Jackson ordered.

"No." I looked up to see Jackson's Porsche slowing outside Allison's house.

"Too late."

Allison hung up her phone and we both approached the car as Jackson rolled down his window. "Lydia gets what Lydia wants," he said. "Come on, get in. We'll stop by his place and see if he's in." Just then, as Jackson was undoing his seatbelt, Allison's phone went off. Lydia leant over Jackson, looking up at us through the open window.

"Is that him with the best explanation ever of why he's half a freaking hour late?" Allison shook her head.

"Not exactly. He said to meet him at the school."

"At the school?" Jackson asked, snorting. "Jeez, he's a bigger nerd than I thought. Alright, both of you, get in."

"What, why?"

"We're going to the school," Lydia stated, sitting back so Jackson could get out to let us in the back. "And you're coming with us."

"Why?" I asked again.

"Because we're a team. And we stick together when one of us is being neglected by their boyfriend."

Allison scoffed as she pushed me towards the Porsche. "He's not _neglecting_ me, Lydia. So he's a little late-"

"Five minutes is a 'little late', Allison. Ten minutes, maybe. Not thirty." Allison climbed in beside me and Jackson rolled his seat back, clicking it into place and slamming the door after he was comfortable.

"Guys, not to interrupt this – quite relevant, if I'm honest, Allison – conversation or anything, but do you really think going to the school at this time is a good idea?"

"Please," Jackson scoffed. "The worst that's going to happen is we get caught by a night janitor and get thrown out."

"I don't know…"

"Amber. Nothing is going to happen."

_Famous last words…_

* * *

"They lock the doors at night you know," Lydia said, leaning across the driver's seat to speak to Allison. I looked up through the window, and I spotted something… off.

"That one's open," Allison stated, pointing to the same doors that had caught my attention.

Jackson walked Allison to the bottom of the stairs, and I watched them for a second, that sick feeling in my stomach growing with every rhythmic thud in my ears. I'd had this feeling a lot over the past week or so. It hadn't steered me wrong yet.

"Amber, what are you doing?" Lydia hissed at me as I launched myself out of the car.

"I'm coming with you," I told Allison. She opened her mouth to argue, but I raised an eyebrow in a way I'd seen my mom do a hundred times. We never messed with The Eyebrow. Allison nodded and waved Jackson's flashlight, signalling for us to go. I turned to Jackson, placing my hand on his shoulder with a solemn look. "If we're not back in twenty minutes, or if you hear screaming, do us all a favour and call the police." Jackson scoffed and rolled his eyes, nodding towards Allison with a smile before walking back to the car.

"I think I see what you mean, now," Allison started as we walked through the door into the dark hallway. Why are schools so much creepier at night? I frowned at Allison. "About Jackson," she clarified. "And his not-so-dickish attitude."

"Ah. What changed your mind?"

"Just before you got out of the car, he looked… concerned." She swung the flashlight back and forth, looking for anything that might tell them where they were. "He was seconds away from telling me to be careful, I'm sure of it."

I frowned. Jackson didn't show emotion. And he also didn't do anything by accident. If he looked concerned, it was because he wanted Allison to think he was concerned. Which, for Jackson, means he's either sick or he's in the midst of a plan. Despite how pale he's been later, I don't think illness is the answer.

We moved through the halls for what felt like forever. It may have actually been forever for all I knew, this place felt like limbo. It was like somewhere you recognised, but it was different that you remembered. Sort of like when you're dreaming, and you know in the dream you're in your house, but it's not your house. Does that make sense to you?

Either way, I was totally creeped out by this whole experience, and I just wanted to get out.

"Can't we just wait for him outside?" I begged.

"He might not know we're here."

"And us walking around here in the dark is going to help that? Allison, aside from the door, we haven't seen one sign of him."

"You can go back if you want to. I'm staying." Apparently, Allison had learnt her own version of The Eyebrow. Hers may have been more aptly named The Chin Jut. I sighed.

"Let's just hurry up and find him so we can get the hell out of here."

"Agreed. This place is totally creepy at night."

After walking around for what felt like another eternity we stopped by the swimming pool. I don't know why, but maybe McCall would've wanted to stop for a quick dip.

The dude's weird, okay?

It was while we were in here, no Scott in sight, that Allison's phone began to chime.

"It's Lydia," she explained as she answered. "Hey. We can't find him anywhere… Yeah, we'll be right there." She hung up and looked up at me, but before she say anything her phone started ringing again. I looked at her phone just as she did.

"How do you even have Stilinski's number?"

"Scott gave it to me, just in case." She answered the call, a frown on her face. "Stiles… I'm in the school looking for you. Why weren't you at my place? ... On the first floor… The swimming pools?" I frowned at Allison, and she shrugged back, looking utterly confused. "… Okay, okay. I'm coming." She hung up the phone. "He said to go to the lobby, come on." We quickened our pace now that we had an actual destination, and made it there seconds before Scott and Stilinski ran through the other set of doors.

"Why would you come? What are you doing here?" Scott demanded, sounding almost angry.

"Because you asked me to," Allison said quietly.

"I asked you to?

"You text her. Telling her to meet you here." Allison showed him the message. I looked between Scott and Stilinski, and something told me…

"Why do I get the feeling you didn't send this message?" Allison asked.

"Because I didn't."

"What the hell is going on?" I butt in, suddenly feeling really nauseous again.

"Did you drive here?" Stilinski asked in reply.

"Jackson did," I answered, one hand on my stomach.

"Jackson's here?" Scott asked, angry again.

"And Lydia. What is going on?" Before Scott could answer, if he was going to, Allison's phone was going off again. I tried to look over at her as it did, but my eyes wouldn't focus on anything. It was like they couldn't rest in one position, like they had to keep moving and take everything in all at once. It was making me dizzy. Then I heard this almighty crash, and I swung around trying to find the source… but there was nothing there.

I had definitely heard something, like wood breaking or something cracking, I don't know, but there was definitely something. Stilinski grabbed my arm, stopping my mad spin to find what had caused that noise, and he frowned at me. "Are you alright?"

I shook my head, clasping and unclasping my clammy hands. "Something's wrong."

The doors Allison and I hadn't long come through opened then, and Jackson and Lydia barged through, looking relieved.

"Finally," Lydia said, breathing heavily. "Can we go now?" I nodded, feeling my hands start to shake.

"We need to go. Now." Jackson studied me for half a second before jumping forward and grabbed my wrist, and Stilinski let go of me so Jackson could lead me back to the doors to leave. Only the noise above us brought everyone's movements to a halt.

Have you ever heard a noise, a sound you're so sure is this one thing, but it's not? Like when you think you hear someone knocking at your door, so you go and check, but no one's there. And then later, someone _actually_ knocks on your door, and you wonder how on earth you could've have thought that sound from before was someone knocking. Have you ever experienced that?

If you have, that's kind of how I felt in that moment. Only, it wasn't anything like that at all.

I'm listening to the creaking, wondering to myself what on earth it could be, and just seconds after Jackson yanks on my wrists and starts sprinting away from the lobby, some louder, much more familiar sound comes from behind us, exactly the spot we were just stood at. And it's like what I heard earlier on, like splintering and cracking and thudding, but it's so much clearer that it's obvious now that the sound before wasn't even real.

Which scared the absolute crap out of me.

We kept running, and I was too scared to even look behind me. I was ninety percent sure I heard growling of some sort, but at this point, I was doubting everything I thought I heard.

We crashed through the cafeteria doors, and immediately Scott is locking the doors behind us, instructing us to help him stack up the furniture to form some sort of barricade. Even though all I heard was a mixture of that growling at Stilinski telling them to stop. I stood there, looking from Stilinski as he stood beside the windows fruitlessly trying to get anyone's attention, and then at the rest of the group as they scraped the chairs and tabled and vending machines across the floor to place it up against the doors. It was all shouting and scraping and shouting and growling and scraping and growling and growling and growling… I put my hands up to my ears, trying to block everything out like a child might, but then it just because this distorted mess of high pitched squeaks and low rumbles and I just couldn't deal with it anymore. So, instead, I squeezed my eyes shut, and I screamed.

Loud.

When I opened my eyes a few seconds later I saw everyone staring at me like I'd grown a second head or something. I dropped my hands from my ears, sniffing and wiping away the tears that had built up in my eyes. I took a deep breath and looked at the group by the door, speaking slow and calm. "Stiles is trying to say something."

"Okay. That was… We'll get to that later," he suggested, nodding at me. "For the meantime, that there is a really great effort guys. But what are we gonna do about the twenty foot wall of windows?" He spun around, gesturing to the giant windows that anyone, or… anything, would be able to get in, if they tried.

So, essentially, this was _not_ the best place to camp out from whatever murderous _thing_ was waiting just outside.

"Will somebody please explain what is going on, because I am freaking out here," Allison begged, hanging off Scott's arm as if it was a life raft. Lydia was doing the same to Jackson with tears in her eyes. I sat on the nearest table, figuring my legs could use a rest, since they were, in that moment, pretty much equivalent to jelly. "I'd really like to know why. Scott?"

Scott ignored Allison's plea, running over to lean against one of the other tables instead. Jackson threw his arms out to the side, wanting to know what was going on. The idea of finding out brought the waves of sickness back again.

"Somebody killed the janitor." _Oh, lord, that did it._

"What?" Lydia whimpered.

"The janitors dead," Stilinski repeated, stepping closer to the group.

"What is he talking about?" Allison asked Scott. "Is this a joke?"

"Who killed him?" Jackson demanded when no one answered Allison.

"This was supposed to be over…" Lydia stammered, becoming hysterical. "The mountain lion…" _The mountain lion_…

"Don't you get it? There wasn't a mountain lion," Jackson muttered angrily. _But I saw a mountain lion… Right?_

"Who was it? What does he want?" Allison asked, looking from Scott to Stilinski for answers. Any answers.

_There wasn't a mountain lion._

"Scott!"

"I don't know. I just… if we go out there, he's going to kill us."

"What? He's gonna kill _us_?" Lydia asked.

"Who? Who is it?" Allison probed, her tone not leaving much room for argument.

A long moment of silence passed, where the only sound was our heavy breathing and the occasional whimper coming from I don't even know who. Maybe Lydia. Probably me. Then, Scott finally answered.

"It's Derek. It's Derek Hale."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this chapter took a little longer that usual, but I've just graduated University and my boyfriend came to stay for a week or so, so I've been busy. Thank you for staying by me and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


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